


Prismatic

by Thetrustytaco



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Magical Realism, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thetrustytaco/pseuds/Thetrustytaco
Summary: Canon adjacent AU where you only see in black and white until you meet your soulmate.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Comments: 56
Kudos: 117





	1. Gray

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my first jab at fic writing in about 10 or so years! I've been so inspired by all of the downright fantastic writing in this fandom and wanted to contribute. I saw this prompt somewhere in the Tumblr abyss about not being able to see the world in color until you got close/met your soulmate, and knew I just had to write about it.
> 
> Also, I just really like to italicize, y'all.
> 
> Shout out to [theswiftiewholived](https://theswiftiewholived.tumblr.com/) for being such a lovely human and beta!

David liked to think of it simply as an inherited fashion choice.

His mother’s parents – he seldom referred to them as his grandparents - had, in her youth, guided her to making only monochromatic fashion choices. So, by the time _it_ happened, she found that she preferred the black and white simplicity to the smattering of colors that blinded her.

This is how she often recounted the tale, slipping into a dreamy voice each time the Xanax kicked in on a night that she was feeling particularly sentimental. She loved to retell the story of how her and the love of her life met.

“Flabbergasted, I was!” She would always emphasize, mid-tale, “at the becoming young gentlemen with benevolent eyes that stood before me.” Most people experienced their Attainment much like film developing - slow and steady. David’s mother loved to add just a bit more flair here because she, on the other hand, opened her eyes unprecedented to the full view.

A young and eager actress at the time, she had fallen asleep at the “dingy, apocalyptic-like diner table” where she sat reviewing her lines for an audition the next morning. David’s father, fresh off a plane to visit a colleague about an investment opportunity, had stopped by the café out of curiosity. The color had been seeping in for him, and he was simply following the map until his eyes landed on her in the corner, seeing the world for the first time in full color. 

All this to say, it’s exactly the same reason that David found himself, once again, in his favorite black Rick Owens sweater and black jeans. David just didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Color, he often repeated to himself in his moments of loneliness and self-doubt, was not all it was cracked up to be.

This is what he says to himself, anyway, for the second time that day as he and Stevie walk the small, miserable aisles of the only general store in town, searching for a bottle of wine to drown themselves in for the evening.

“Do you ever think how fucked up it is that wines are categorized as colors seeing as it’s the sad, lonely people who are the most likely to drink them?” David asks, picking up a bottle of one labelled ‘Merlot’. He knows that this is a type of red wine – one that he finds himself revisiting often – but cannot comprehend the concept of another color besides the black that the liquid appears, the white of the label, and the varying grey tones that the light from outside casts on most everything else.

“I mean, I assume that it makes more sense when you can actually tell the colors apart.” Stevie deadpans.

“Yes, thank you so much captain obvious.” David lilts, pinching his face and squinting his eyes. Stevie, unaffected, smiles big in response. She continues to peruse the small and unvarying selection, the same choices that are there each time they come in. David looks around the store, impatiently waiting for her to make the same selection she does weekly despite pretending she’s going to entertain other options.

“Okay, can you please just get what we know you’re going to get so we can get out of here? This store is going to give me hives.” David complains. The store clerk, now used to David’s brazen attitude (that he showcases often, quite loudly), appears unaffected, continuing his crossword puzzle as he sits behind the cash register.

“You know, you complain an awful lot about this place for someone who is here so often.” Stevie says, picking a different wine – a Sauvignon blanc instead of her normal pinot noir – just to spite David. He notices and gives her a look he hopes conveys annoyance, both due to her choice, as well as the call out post that he just endured.

“Okay, yeah, out of dire necessity,” he says, waving his free hand and shaking his head back and forth tightly for emphasis, “but only because I’m not about to drive 20 minutes for a bottle of wine or pay for it by the glass at the café.”

“Hm. Dire necessity indeed.” Stevie says, walking backwards towards the front while raising an eyebrow. It’s halfway a jab at David, but also at herself. They were practically the town alcoholics at this point, or as much as they could be by this town’s standards.

They pay for their wines, happy to be off to their normal Saturday night shenanigans at Stevie’s apartment. The habit had formed about two months back, after David finally admitted to himself that yes, he was definitely going to be here a while, and yes, Stevie was basically his only friend. Best friend.

Whatever.

As they step off the front step of the general store, David takes a moment to stop and turn around. He had always admired the structure of the front of the building, as unfortunate as the styling choices of the signage were. The large windows showed a generous glow of light from inside. He often found himself thinking about the ways he would change things in this town to fit what he considered to be a correct aesthetic, the general store being one of the places that crossed his mind most. Likely because of the absolute travesty that was happening inside.

Stevie notices him no longer beside her and stops in the middle of the street to turn and look at him. Thankfully, it’s late and most people had already settled in for the night or made their way to the one bar on the other side of town.

“What’s going on?” She asked slowly, in her faux-timid voice that was usually meant to point out something she already knew the answer to. He snaps out of his daydream and shakes his head.

“Nothing. I’m just so hungry that I’m zoning out. So that means you’ve got about 15 minutes to get us a pizza ordered before I eat both of our left arms.” He says, stalking off past her in the direction of her apartment. She snorts in response, but when he looks back over his shoulder to make sure she’s following, she already has her phone out placing an online order.

They’re already two glasses deep when the pizza arrives. David can feel his buzz resting warmly in the front of his head thanks to the lack of food in his system. He grabs three slices out of the box Stevie has barely sat on her small table and downs them in all of a 5-minute span (which – yes – may have been a slight mistake).

They sit comfortably in silence for a while, the movie they started being the only noise filling the small apartment.

“Do you ever wonder if you have one out there?” Stevie asks, out of the blue. It was the middle of Julia’s big scene with Heath Ledger, and normally David would have shushed her, but it was so rare that either of them ever brought up the S word that David had to allow it.

“Um,” he starts, shifting a little, unsure of how to respond. It was his favorite and most hated subject all at the same time, “I- uh…. I’m not sure.” He finally settles on. There had been a time in his life where his sole mission was to find them. The one he was meant to be with, his soulmate. He had time, money – so why not use it to do just that? In his early 20’s, David had found himself in all corners of the world, hoping to get a coveted glimpse outside of the black-and-white world he lived in. It was exciting and thrilling – until it wasn’t.

Five years into a non-stop galivant across the globe, David was growing tired. The thrill he once felt had long burnt out, though at the time, giving up felt like defeat.

He had always had a love for art; the way it showed dimension in texture and shape and not just color (or lack thereof), and his travels had enabled him to see more kinds than he could have imagined. So, he used this as the excuse to propel himself to continue his journey. _Just one more city_ , he would think to himself each time he was ready to throw in the towel. Eventually, after far too many meaningless hookups and a string of disappointments, he had decided that he needed to be back home. So he had packed up his things and boarded the next flight out of Heathrow, nary an unfamiliar hue in sight.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I had a dream that was in color?” Stevie asked, hanging her head off the end of her bed to look at the TV upside down.

“Okay,” David snorted, “that’s bullshit and you know it. How would you even know? You have no idea what color even looks like.” David snips. There’s a flash of… _something_ … on Stevie’s face when he turns to her that has him second guessing his jab.

“No, it’s true,” she says, uncharacteristically low and borderline sincere. It’s a tone that David had only heard her use once before, and it was making his skin crawl now just as much as it had back then, “I can’t describe it or explain it, but I swear I did. And it was beautiful.” She rolls over and picks up her whiskey from where it sat on the floor in front of the bed, taking a generous gulp. “I can’t believe there are bastards out there that are lucky enough to get to see that shit all the time.” David takes a deep breath, exhaling a ‘yeah’. There’s a beat of silence.

“Yeah well, here’s to unlucky bastards like us, living in a black and white world.” He says, raising his wine glass as a gesture. Stevie smiles, just a small thing, but David knows he succeeded in pulling her out of _whatever_ that just was.

The biggest reason he is finding the soul mates concept more and more bullshit by the minute is because it only seems to work in a romantic sense. And it’s not like doctors had been able to put a scientific reasoning to it – it’s just a fact that was – but David full and well believed that soul mates came in the form of short, sarcastic, dark-haired best friends as well.

It’s late – around 11:30pm - when David decides to head home.

“You can just stay here.” Stevie says, which, yikes, she must have hit her head earlier to be offering up a semblance of both sincerity _and_ kindness in the same night. David makes a mental note to check her tomorrow for signs of traumatic brain injury.

“I would, but I have to drop Alexis off in the morning at work so I can have the car to run the errands my mother is insisting on, and I’m already going to hate myself enough. I don’t need to have an additional 15 minutes of sleep ripped away from me too.” Stevie rolls her eyes. “But thank you.” He says, supplying her with a taste of her own kindness medicine. 

“Ugh, get out of here. Byeee.” She says, throwing a pillow at him. “Text me when you get back so I know you weren’t axe murdered.” She says as he heads to the door. They were both too buzzed/drunk to be driving, so walking was his alternative. It wasn’t a long walk, and he knew the area was safe. He “Mmhm’s” Stevie and shuts the door behind him.

The walk back to the motel is quiet, like most nights in this small town. Crickets chirping in the distance are the only melody that lean against the soft breeze on his face as he walks down main street. His waning buzz still keeping him warm, he breathes in deep and exhales some tension he didn’t realize he was holding in his shoulders. If he starts walking a little slower now than his normal stride, he doesn’t take notice. Looking up towards the sky, he admires what he considers to be the best thing about living in the middle of nowhere: the sheer amount of stars that can be seen, unfiltered by the big city lights that he was once accustomed to. The moon, completing the masterpiece of the sky above him, was large and glowing, almost full. It was peaceful.

David’s peace is interrupted by the faint sound of tires on asphalt in the distance. He saw the glow of headlights in the distance ahead of him as someone turned down the street. His mind started racing with Stevie’s parting words to avoid axe murderers, and his shoulders tightened again with slight anxiety creeping back into him.

He shakes his head a little at his racing thoughts. It was likely just someone heading home from the bar. He was only a few minutes from the hotel, but he held his phone, unlocked and on Stevie’s contact page, just as a precaution. As the car neared him, he looked back up at the sky to admire the moon, and will his nerves to calm down. The car approaching him certainly was not slowing down, which was a good sign. If anything, it seemed to be speeding up? David moved away from the side of the road a little more just in case. He was not keen on becoming human roadkill just because a drunk idiot decided they were ‘sober enough’ to drive.

He looked back up at the sky, admiring the moon again as the sound of the tires grew closer. But - that was weird - the moon looked a little… off? It was the best word his buzzed brain could supply to describe it. He found himself squinting, trying to make sense of what was happening to his vision. 

In the next two seconds that followed, three things happened in very quick succession:

David rubbed his eyes to try and shake the weird vision he was experiencing.

The car that had been approaching him raced past him.

And, David watched as the moon… wait… 

had the moon just briefly changed _colors_?


	2. White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part of the show where the timeline is made up and the canons don’t fully matter!  
> Yes, we’re pre-apothecary, but Cabaret is already happening. Stevie isn’t in it… yet.
> 
> Also, I'm going to start positing regularly on Fridays, but was too excited to wait and get this one out :)  
> Shout out to [theswiftiewholived](https://theswiftiewholived.tumblr.com/) for killin' the beta game!

It’s several solid seconds before David can get his brain to come back online. He blinks twice; a mental reboot button.

“I-“ He stammers, to absolutely no one as he looks around him, hands held out waist-level and jaw hanging slack. In that moment, he’s wishing desperately that he had someone to confide in over what just happened.

He looks up at the moon again to see it’s usual, off-white, grayish glow. _That’s not what was there a moment ago though, right?_ He thinks. Turning around to see the taillights of the car that had just passed him turning down a street, he snaps his mouth shut and processes what he saw.

_Color._

Or, well. At least that’s what he thinks it was. He can suddenly hear his heartbeat heavy behind his ears as the word runs through his mind again. He had _just_ been berating Stevie not an hour and a half ago about the fact that she wouldn’t know color if it hit her. So, by that same logic, neither would he.

It’s really unfortunate that anxiety isn’t logical.

Lightly touching his fingertips to his mouth, with the taillights of the car now out of view, he hurriedly finishes his walk back to the motel.

With Alexis and Twyla at the bar across town, David thanks whatever deities may exist for the privacy of the room. He knows he’d never hear the end of it if she were here. Shutting the door behind him, he turns to sit on the end of his bed, back ramrod straight - processing. His affinity for overthinking requires that he mentally start listing all possibilities of what just happened. 

Immediately.

He bolts upright and starts pacing between the front door and the small bathroom, one hand on his hip, tightly clutching his phone - the other, resting on the side of his face.

The first possibility was the logical one. He was obviously a little buzzed and a whole lot tired. Plus, it was dark out. When mixed with the anxiety of an axe murderer, who’s to say what illusions his mind could create?

The second possibility, less logical and with a low probability, was causing his pulse to fly erratically. Was it possible, in this little town in the middle of nowhere, where he’d never willingly choose to be… that his soulmate had just _driven_ past him?

I mean, what a ridiculous notion, right?

He knows he can’t just disregard it, though. The sight was unlike anything he’s ever seen, and difficult to describe. For a brief flash, he imagined that he was looking at something… warm, maybe? Light, but not bright in the same way that white was? It felt ridiculous to even think, but he wasn’t sure that he had any other words for it. He can list all of the colors, but doesn’t know the first thing on actually identifying them. As a thought pops into his head, he pulls out his phone and brings up his web browser.

_‘What color is the moon tonight?’_

It takes a moment thanks to the hotel’s slow WiFi, but eventually the search results load. The first one, an article from a news station, sends a shiver down his spine.

 _CTV News - ‘When and where to see tonight’s rare Harvest moon’._ He checks the posting date. It was from that morning. The article indicates that the moon would appear more yellow than normal.

Yellow. Huh. Well, from what he can remember, it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He can’t imagine trying to take in multiple colors at once if they all look like _that._

Okay. He _definitely_ knows at this point that he is allowing himself to be worked up further. This is a big deal though, right? Not everyone gets the chance to meet their soulmate, and David had all but accepted that he was fated to be one of them. He feels like he needs to call Stevie, but he’s pretty sure she’s passed out by now. He picks up his phone, considering dialing anyway.

“David!” He hears his mother shout through the wall. It’s just enough to stop his spiraling, “would you please stop gallivanting back and forth like a stampede of odd-toed ungulates!”

David hadn’t realized that he was still pacing, but odd-toed ungulates was a bit much. He makes a purposefully dramatic sound of disgust in response, laying his phone on his bed and retreating into the bathroom instead.

As he starts the shower, he pops a pill from the medicine cabinet and plans to drown his thoughts in lukewarm water and quality sleep.

****** ****** ****** 

David does not sleep well in the least. To add insult to injury, Alexis decides to loudly barge through the door at 7:30 the next morning. David had just managed to slip into a light sleep when the bright rays of the early morning assault his eyeballs.

“OH. MY. GOD. ALEXIS,” David all but shouts in a sleepily drunken slur, sharply tugging the covers over his head.

“Get _up_ David!” she says, far too loud for the throbbing that is currently happening behind David’s temple.

David pulls the covers down slowly off his face to see her already in her scrubs, hair styled and looking fresh faced.

“Um, what is this?” David asks, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her straight on while gesturing up and down her body. She gingerly holds her long, carefully curled locks back while looking down at her outfit.

“Um, my work uniform?” She says, as if talking to a toddler, “you know, for the job you need to drive me to so I’m not late and get fired.”

“Did you stay at some rando’s house last night?” David asks, throwing the covers back to sit up and scrubbing his face with his hands. He shivers slightly at the loss of heat.

“Ew, no David. I stayed with Twy and she just dropped me off,” She says with a smile, twisting a shoulder forward slightly. David throws his hands out away from his body.

“And she couldn’t have just dropped you off AT WORK?” He says incredulously, voice raising an octave, “I could still be asleep!” 

“Okay well it’s not my fault you and Stevie obviously partied too hard last night,” She says, earning an annoyed look from David.

“Fall off a cliff. I’ll have you know, I was back before midnight,” He snips. His brain unhelpfully wanders back to the real reason he was up so late, and oh. Not a great subject to revisit while exhausted and hungover from wine.

“Mmkay, well, tell that to the bags under your eyes.” She says, walking to the mini fridge to grab one of the (David’s) yogurts. David glares at her for two counts until she realizes.

“Well c’mon David, do you _want_ me to be unemployed like you?” She says, waving the spoon in her right hand for emphasis.

“Oh my god.” David says under his breath, standing up from his bed with a glare. He opens the bottle of Advil on his bedside table and swallows two dry, slamming the bottle down for emphasis. Pausing to grab his favorite sweater from the closet as he passes (and to shoot Alexis an extra glare for good measure), he disappears into the bathroom to make himself presentable.

**** **** **** ****

David would be a liar if he said that he isn’t secretly harboring hope that he might run across whoever was in that car last night. The town isn’t big, but his mother is sending him all around to pick up various things in anticipation for the show she’s spearheading at the local theatre – _Cabaret_. She has been absolutely immersed in the process since Jocelyn first asked for her opinion on shows one fated afternoon. The rest is history.

But running all over town to meet his mother’s every whim means covering a lot of space, which means he’s likely to run across them again. The only particularly frustrating issue he faces is that you can never tell, from what his research indicated, how close you need to be to activate your Attainment - aka, the coveted moment where one starts to see color. The only thing he knows for sure is that, the longer you’re with your soulmate, the larger the distance can be (with most people claiming that after a year or so, they can be a province away and still see in color full time), so there’s a likely possibility that he will need to be close.

He muses over this as he drives, the thought of actually finding his soulmate now more of a soft electric buzz under his tired skin rather than the rampage of the night prior.

It is nearing two in the afternoon when he drags himself through the front doors of the café. He is hitting a wall hard and desperately requires a double shot of espresso if he is going to make it through the last two errands, one of which requires that he drive to Elmdale, and the other requires interaction with Roland. So, god knows he is going to need it to endure _that_.

He’s surprised to see Stevie leaning up against the counter as he walks in.

“Um, hi ditcher,” He says with snark, coming up behind her.

“Oh hello,” she says flatly, “and I’m not ditching, you father gave me the rest of the day off, so I was getting some lunch before happily going to spend the rest of the day in bed.”

“Hm, okay. So that means you’re technically free the rest of the day then,” David says, crossing his arms while a small mischievous smile growing on his face.

“Uh, no, I just told you I had plans,” Stevie says, deadpan.

“Mmhm, to lie in bed all day, which, if I can’t do that, I’m forbidding you from doing it either,” David says matter-of-factly, “I need you to come with me to Elmdale. My mother is making me go pick up these vintage negligees from a thrift shop for the show, and I can’t bear to suffer alone.” He bears his teeth in a forced smile that resembles more of a grimace in hopes that she won’t turn around and walk out right then.

“So I’m not getting a choice in this matter, am I?”

“No you are not,” He says in a lower voice with a smile, recognizing Stevie’s roundabout way of saying yes.

“Here you go, Stevie!” Twyla’s bright voice came from their left as she sat a to-go box in a sack on the counter. David orders his espresso and herds Stevie out the door with him.

*** *** ***

“Okay, no, you made me endure an extra dose of Roland today without warning me, so I get to choose this one, Rose,” Stevie says from the passenger seat as they work to settle on a place to eat an early dinner before heading back to Schitt’s Creek. 

First, it was Roland forcing them both to endure a 45-minute story about his uncle’s semi-successful career as a goat modeler (yes, modeler - as in, he poses with goats for borderline erotic photos) which – gag – came with actual photographic evidence of said profession. David isn’t quite sure yet how best to burn that image out of his eyeballs. Following that absolute _delight_ of an interaction (all for a few vintage frames that the Schitt’s owned - his mother is going to be hearing some choice words from him about _that_ ), the antique store lost the negligees and took close to an hour to locate them in the back room. Add in over an hour of drive time and the mounting stress that comes with a poor night’s sleep, and David is ready to agree to just about anything to get back to his bed.

“Okay fine, that’s fair. Where do you want to go?” He asks, waiting at the exit of the antique store parking lot, hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel.

“I want to try The Mule,” She says immediately. Okay, so she had planned this it seems.

“That hispter-y bar that just opened up?” David asks, not bothering to school the undoubtedly judgemental look that adorns his face. What kind of name was _that_ anyway?

“Yes, but I hear they have awesome food,” She defends, “C’mon, it’s not like we’re here every day. It’ll be my treat.” And, well. David Rose has rarely met free food he didn’t like.

Which is how he finds himself walking towards an unassuming set of front doors, music wafting out from inside. David realizes that the song he’s hearing isn’t by the original singer, and gasps.

“You brought me to a _karaoke_ bar?” Stevie's eyes light up as laughs at his indignant look. He fears that he shouldn’t ask himself if this could get any worse.

“It’s not a karaoke bar,” She replies, reaching for the door, “I think they just have a few local acts that sometimes play.” 

“So like an open mic ordeal, which is arguably worse than karaoke,” He refutes as he walks through the door, giving Stevie a look of displeasure mixed with uncertainty.

It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dark interior, but David is not wholly displeased by the setup. The room is longer than it is wide from where they stand, with a long, grand looking bar against most of the left wall. Tables with booths are scattered along the rest, aside from a stage at the back of the room where a girl is finishing off her (not completely horrible, but he’d never admit it) rendition of _Make You Feel My Love_ by Adele. The room descends a few feet away from the door by way of three stairs which helps to make the ceiling, strung with soft twinkle lights, look taller. It looks like a place where you can basically hide away from others, and David is here for it in his current state.

They take up residence in a corner booth and place a drink order with the waitress. David decides on some specialty drink they’re featuring because it sounds fruity and delicious, while Stevie orders a double shot of tequila.

“Mm, glad to know this is a low-key dinner then,” David says, holding the menu up in front of him, low enough to still see over it.

“Just being efficient.” Stevie shrugs, not looking up from her menu. The waitress returns with their drinks and they place their food order. David sips his drink and it’s just as delicious as it sounded on the menu. So far, this place is doing it for him. There’s a break in the music as the musicians trade out, during which, David and Stevie sit in comfortable silence. Looking down at his drink, he swirls the liquid with his straw slowly, feeling the weight of his eyelids while listening to the clink of the ice against the glass. As he stares, the liquid in his drink appears to be… doing something. He furrows his eyebrows a little and refocuses his vision, suddenly recognizing the same confusion he held just the night before. The drink was… changing colors. 

His heart races double time and clashes against the side of his chest. With big eyes, he looks up at Stevie. Her black and white plaid ensemble she was wearing a moment ago now had a faint tint of something else to it. He wasn’t sure what color it was, but it felt like a rich color. Stevie takes note of the deer-in-headlight expression that’s crossed his face, and turns her head a little in question while keeping eye contact.

“Um, Stevie,” David starts, low. He’s not sure why. There’s no reason for this to be a secret, and the room was only about half capacity anyway with no one in their immediate vicinity. Stevie stays quiet but raises her eyebrows. She’s probably able to recognize the look on David’s face as being inches from a full on spiral and would rather not unintentionally instigate anything.

“So, last night when I was walking home, there was a, um. A moment. Where… I think I saw a flash of color.” He says, not looking up. If Stevie’s eyebrows could go any higher in that moment, they’d be a part of her hairline.

“No shit?” She asks, and it takes everything in David to just nod in response.

“And you’re just now telling me this?” She asks, at a loss for any other words. David doesn’t respond. She looks down to her untouched glass, sighs, and throws it back in one go.

“Alright, spill,” She says, setting her glass on the table down with a thunk, “and what does that have to do with you suddenly looking like you’ve seen a ghost?” As the question leaves her mouth, an edge of understanding crosses her face and her words slow slightly. David clears his throat past the lump his anxiety has left there.

“Your um, your shirt has changed colors,” He says slowly while keeping his eyes locked on the flannel material, his inflection rising slightly. He takes a large swig of his drink, which has increased in brightness since he last looked at it a minute ago.

“So, that means…” Stevie starts, nodding as an answer to her own question. They both know, and David is terrified to look around. It may be different for the other person. David remembers reading that the more closed off someone’s heart was, the longer it would take for their soul to affect their partner strongly enough to prompt their Attainment. He had initially disregarded it at the time as mumbo jumbo, but now he was rapidly wondering. Did his partner know he was here too? He had a long history of pain and heartbreak and wore the walls around his heart like a badge of honor.

“So, do we go, or do we stay?” Stevie asks simply, looking him straight in the eyes. For all of the shit he gives her, Stevie will always be David’s A-1, Day-1. David lets out a large breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I think we stay,” He says on the exhale, a little unsure. Stevie nods in solidarity as the waitress appears, laying their food in front of them. David suddenly feels too nauseous to eat.  
“Hi everyone,” A warm male voice says over the speakers, snapping him somewhat out of his panic stricken trance. 

“I, uh, wanted to thank you guys for coming out tonight,” He continues, and David hears a waver in the guy’s voice. Curious, he looks over to the stage, only to see the most vivid color he’s seen thus far, embedded in the shirt of a man holding a guitar. In that moment, he swears the world has stopped turning.

“My name is Patrick Brewer, and I hope you enjoy.” David can’t do anything in his power to look away. The guy looks around the room, a bit nervously, but all David can think about is how he wishes he had the proper words for the colors he was seeing in that moment. From the guy’s shirt, his guitar, the lights, the stage – all varying hues and shades. David vows to one day figure out what these colors are and write down in _excruciating_ detail how beautiful they work together. 

_Thank god he’s on a stage, and we’re all supposed to be looking at him_ he thinks, overwhelmed past his limits, frozen and unable to speak. Stevie, watching this unfold before her, follows David’s gaze and lets her mouth fall open in realization.

“That’s him,” She says, more of a statement than a question. In a motion similar to his disbelief the night before, David raises his hands and gingerly rests his fingertips on the expanse of his lips and cheeks. He holds his breath again as the guy strums his first chord.

And, oh. _Oh._

The voice that fills the air is like _butter._ David doesn’t recognize the song, but even Stevie’s mouth hangs slightly open still. Not that David notices, however, because his eyes are glued to the stage.

That’s- that’s actually him. Patrick Brewer. 

His soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Tumblr as [thetrustytaco](https://thetrustytaco.tumblr.com/) as well! :)


	3. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lets get into Patrick's head for a bit :)
> 
> Lyrics from Let it Go by Joshua Hyslop.
> 
> Beta'd by the best, [theswiftiewholived](https://theswiftiewholived.tumblr.com/)

Not many things in life scare Patrick Brewer.

Being the first freshman in the history of his high school to make the varsity baseball team didn’t scare him. Agreeing, on a whim, to get up on a relatively small stage to perform music for the first time since college didn’t scare him. Hell, even uprooting his life one Saturday at 2pm by declaring that he was ending his engagement and moving to a new city, all in one fell swoop, hadn’t even really scared him. But, looking up now to the stage that he was about to step foot on, realizing that he can see the faintest tint of _color_?

Well, that is fucking terrifying.

Patrick never put much stock into the concept of soulmates. He knows there are plenty of perfectly happy people in the world that never meet their soulmate and are still deeply in love with their partner. And really, Patrick finds himself romanticizing that scenario often because those were the people who _chose_ each other and put effort in to make it work; they’re not some magical pre-determination that the universe made for them. Take his parents for example. They are the best example of a relationship that he can think of, and they had never seen color a day in their life. Patrick often thinks that’s how he’d like to end up.

Growing up in a small town, he had found comfort in the form of a best friend named Rachel. As they grew older, it only made sense that that was exactly what he was looking for in a relationship, so he had asked her out freshman year of high school. She was elated.

The years following were categorized into on-again and off-again, switching in between with increasing frequency as they grew older. Patrick found himself stuck in between not feeling right in their relationship, but not feeling right out of it either. In the time since he put some physical distance between them – going on about three months now -- he’s realizing that the reason he didn’t feel right _outside_ of the relationship is because he was missing his best friend. Why he never could feel right _inside_ the relationship, however, remained a mystery to him.

A ringing in his ears has grown loud enough that he almost didn’t hear the stage manager tell him that he’s up. He shakes his head slightly and steps up to the stage. Steadying himself with a breath, he looks out from the stage as he steps up to the mic, clenching the neck of his guitar.

“Hi everyone,” He hears himself say. He tries his best to look around the room, but it’s difficult to see anything aside from silhouettes past the bright stage lights. He wills his knees not to give out.

“I, uh, wanted to thank you guys for coming out tonight.” God, he needs to pull it together. Even he could hear the nerves in his voice. To anyone else, it probably just sounds like he’s nervous to perform, which - okay, yeah, he could play that off. He tries again with a more even tone.

“My name is Patrick Brewer, and I hope you enjoy.” He steps back from the mic and clears his voice, trying to do the same for his head. He looks down at his guitar, places his left hand in the beginning chord formation, and begins to strum. He’s starting with a cover, a lesser-known song that he’s been relating to recently:

_“Well I’ve loved, I’ve lost_

_But I still can’t find the way_

_to the middle of my heart_

_And I open my eyes_

_and I don’t know why_

_But I feel so old_

_You don’t know what you’ve got_

_But you’ve got to let it go”_

He starts feeling better, more relaxed, as he feels the words vibrate warmly on his vocal cords. He has desperately missed singing for others. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his shirt sleeve– oh god, his shirt was a color? He _definitely_ thought he was just wearing a gray shirt. It’s faint, but undeniable.

He finishes off the song with a slow resounding pass of his strings, and as the sound dies down, he gets generous applause, considering the relatively small audience. The nerves he had felt a moment ago have almost completely dissolved. He rides this momentum, not allowing his brain to wander much further than the bubble of his music.

He manages to get through his set and feels like he’s floating by the end. The rush of getting to perform never ceases to amaze him. It’s part of the reason he tried out for the show the community theater was casting shortly after he moved to town.

After exiting the stage, he rounds the corner to the back room where his guitar case lay open, finally able to be alone with his thoughts for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he looks at his sleeve again. It’s the same gray that he had observed this morning in the mirror while getting dressed. He carefully places his guitar back in its case and tries to process it all.

Patrick is a man of logic and planning, he always has been. Recently, however, he seems to be throwing caution to the wind with increasing frequency, so this might as well happen. He has to come up with some kind of a plan though, if for nothing more than his sanity.

He decides that he’s going to go back to the bar and grab some dinner before heading out. With any luck, he might be able to spot the girl who prompted his Attainment. Worst case scenario, he’s at least not going to head home with an empty stomach, and will be able to politely decline whatever his landlord – well, roommate – Ray, was cooking.

He nods to himself, agreeing that it’s a solid plan. With a deep breath, he walks out with his guitar case hanging from his left hand and glances around the large room, nerves resurfacing. He walks just long enough to where he can see the faintest tint of things around him again and sits at the nearest barstool, propping his guitar upright against the bar next to him. Thankfully the curve of the bar has him angled to where he can see most of the room without having to awkwardly crane his neck around. He orders a burger and fries from the bartender, along with a beer. He accepts the beer graciously when she hands it over and then she leaves to put in his order. As he takes a drink, he glances sideways in what he hopes is a casual glance around the room. Everything is appearing with the same faded tint that he experienced on stage, so his mind gets to work on the logistics of it all.

He glances to the stage, and compares how far it is in proximity to where he’s sitting now. He mentally plots the halfway point that is equidistant to both him and the stage.  
His eye follows the invisible line he’s calculated, and it lands him to the booth tucked away in the corner. It’s a little far away, but he can tell instantly that what he’s seeing is in slightly more color than the rest of the room, but by much. He can see a couple sitting, huddled together over their plates of food. He tries not to linger his gaze too long, and can’t help when his pulse picks up pace. Was his soulmate currently in a relationship? That would be his luck at this point, honestly. From the short time he was looking at them, he knew that they were undoubtedly a good looking couple. Did he have the heart to break that up? Would she leave the guy she was with for him, just because the universe decided they are soulmates?

In a moment of unabashed determination, he decides he has to find out.

He gets up as casually as he can from his stool before he can talk himself out of it and gestures to the bartender that he’ll be right back. His feet suddenly feel like lead. It’s an anxiety-induced physical strain just to convince himself to walk, but Patrick Brewer has never been a quitter. The hammering in his chest is like nothing he’s ever experienced before. Partly because, with every step he takes, he’s pretty sure the world around him becomes ever so slightly more saturated. It’s a foreign feeling, one that he wants to pause and admire, but at the same time continue on to try and increase the effects. He’s only about 20 feet away from the table when the two inhabitants take notice of him coming up and turn their heads in unison to look at him. He’s honestly a little breathless, but he’s not sure if it’s because _both_ of them are far more attractive up close than they had been across the room, or if he is just panicking. Probably both.

He pointedly takes notice of the girl sitting there. She has sharp, dark eyes and hair to match. She’s wearing a plaid flannel shirt that’s a color he doesn’t know how to name, but it’s distinct now, in a deep way? She raises an eyebrow at him as they make eye contact, an edge of… panic?... on her face. He doesn’t blame her. If she’s experiencing _anything_ close to what he is now, he’s sure their facial expressions match.

She’s beautiful, he acknowledges, but he also can’t help but stare momentarily at the guy sitting across from her. He, too, has piercing eyes which sit under well-manicured, thick eyebrows, and perfectly styled dark hair. He’s got a slight scruff which sits on the lower half of his well structured face. The guy was by anyone’s standards very attractive, Patrick tells himself. The guy quickly looks away from Patrick and pulls the sleeves of his actually-black sweater down over his hands in a nervous gesture. Patrick wonders if he’s having the same fears; that his girlfriend/wife/whoever might be taken away from him. Surely she told him what was going on - they were acting too suspicious for her not to have. Seeing him up close though, Patrick is pretty sure he stands no chance in the grand scheme. Like, this dude is _gorgeous_.

Patrick arrives fully by their table and looks at the woman’s expectant face.

“Uh, hi,” He rushes out. Okay, Brewer.

“Hi,” She says, borderline sounding sarcastic. Right, he thinks. Awkward start.

“I’m, um- I’m Patrick,” He says, sticking his hand out in a habitual greeting that’s been ingrained in him from years of office jobs. She glances over to the guy, who is staring pointedly at the pale colored drink in front of him. She reaches up to shake his hand slowly, as if uncertain.

“The guy from the stage,” She says, metered. Her smile is nice enough, and her hand is small and a little cold but firm in its grasp. Patrick smiles and nods.

“That’s the one.” He says. He isn’t sure what to say next. Does he make a joke of it? A line? As they drop hands, he dares a look and notices there isn’t a ring. Okay, so, boyfriend at best.

“I’m Stevie, and this is my friend, David,” Stevie says, a little loud for how close they all are, extending a hand to gesture across the table. Okay good, just a friend. 

It’s quick, but Patrick sees David shoot her a look akin to a glare. He looks up at Patrick with what appears to be a forced smile, and Patrick notices - even in the dark environment - that his eyes aren’t black. They’re still deeply colored, but Patrick can faintly make out a lighter hue as the twinkle lights from above are reflected. Patrick is suddenly nervous that he’s not making a good impression on him, and that bothers him more than he expects.

“Nice to meet you.” Patrick says, extending a hand to him as well. He hums in agreement but says nothing, plastering on a forced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His hand – large, warm, and soft – slides gently into his, giving the slightest squeeze. Patrick sees that he’s wearing four thick silver bands on his fingers, the metal a sharp contrast to the feel of his skin. For a moment, Patrick’s brain short circuits, and he’s not sure why.

He realizes in that moment that the colors he’s experiencing aren’t at all what he expected. He figured they would be distinctly different than the graytone he was used to, but if he tries to describe it, he thinks that color is like an added layer to gray. It doesn’t make sense based on what he’s read about it, but that’s a thought he’ll have to revisit later.

The beat of silence that happens as a result of Patrick’s internal monologue turns to two beats, and quickly turns awkward. Right, he was the one who walked up to the table. He suddenly feels bad about interrupting them as his mind races to find a good excuse. She hasn’t mentioned it yet, so either she’s disappointed or embarrassed. Or maybe she’s just measuring him up first. 

Just as he contemplates this and is about to speak, the small amount of color he’s been seeing suddenly drops from his vision.

“I-” He comes up short… what- what just happened? Everything is back to grayscale around him. He blinks a few times.

“You… okay there?” He hears Stevie ask, slowly. How does he tell her that just two seconds ago, he was seeing a little color, but now he’s not? 

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that, just a- a headache, you know,” and wow if that wasn’t his lamest excuse, he was going to try and top it apparently, “what I came over here for was to see if you would like to come to my next, um, show? Well, not really a show I guess, more of a… _thing_ at a bar called the Wobbly Elm, it’s in the next town over? Both of you.” He amends, concluding his ramble. In a moment of panic he realizes that they might have thought he actually sucked.

“Yes,” The girl – Stevie – says almost instantly, bobbing her head once, but otherwise, her facial expression unchanging. Patrick is almost taken aback by the speed of the response, “We both would love to come to your _thing_ ,” The way in which she says it lightens Patrick’s nerves a little as he feels the edge of teasing.

“Um, great!” He says, huffing out a small laugh alongside his smile. He’s not sure why he feels guilty for doing it, but he looks over at David again. His eyes are wider, looking like he wants to tell Stevie something but not in Patrick’s presence. Patrick knows how to read a room, so he takes this as his cue to make an exit. “It’s next Friday night at 8:30.”

“Sounds great,” She says, smiling this time, and with a little too much glee in her eyes, like she knows something he doesn’t. Maybe it was funny timing and they had planned to be there anyway at that time? Who knows. He’ll ask her about it next week.

“Great,” He says, and then remembers he’s supposed to be exiting, “Well, my food’s almost ready, so I’ll leave you be. I hope to see you two there,” He says as a parting, and looks to Stevie first, then David, his gaze lingering for a moment. They both mutter a form of ‘bye’, as his mind battles it out over how a guy was allowed to be so nice looking, and turns to head back to the bar. He’s overly conscious all of a sudden of the way he’s walking and how fast. He tries to slow slightly and turn his pace into a casual stroll. Stroll? _Brewer, you’re an idiot_ , he thinks. 

His food isn’t ready yet by the time he returns, so he asks the bartender if he can please have it to go. She nods, ringing up his ticket. He pays and leans against the counter waiting, trying very hard not to turn around.

The bartender lays the food in front of him, which he accepts with a ‘thank you’. Turning to pick up his guitar case, he chances one more look over at the table in the corner. He’s met with the sight of David glancing over at him. His face flashes hot, which he tries to play off with a smile. He raises the hand holding the sack of food as a goodbye gesture, which David timidly returns, raising just his fingers off the table.

As Patrick pushes out the doors and heads to his car, he replays on loop the small, sideways pinched smile that decorated David’s face as he left.


	4. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, we love a good misunderstanding. Back to David’s POV.  
> Y'all this one is LONG and I'm not even sorry. Happy Friday :)
> 
> Beta'd by the best - [theswiftiewholived](https://theswiftiewholived.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Lyrics From: Cover Me Up by Jason Isbell

“Well that was the _weirdest_ interaction of my life,” Stevie says, waiving the waitress down and holding up her glass to ask for another, “and I grew up with _Roland_ as the mayor.” She is seeming thoroughly amused by the statuesque nature that has overcome David.

“Really? ‘Cause that was just great for me,” he says sarcastically. The waitress drops Stevie’s second double shot of tequila off and she doesn’t hesitate this time to throw it back. She makes a face as it goes down hot.

“So how does it feel to know your soulmate? Review?” Stevie says, trying to make light of the situation.

“Um, well for one, my soulmate _definitely_ thought YOU were his soulmate. So, I’ve got that going for me.” Stevie snorts a laugh as if it’s not a _big freaking deal_.

“What?! That’s the ONLY reason he invited us to his show… _thing_ ,” David tries to protest dramatically to no one’s objection, finally getting some hand movements in for emphasis. 

“Only because he’s not out of the closet yet,” Stevie says, as if it’s obvious.

“I- wha-,” David tries, “how are you so sure he’s even closeted? He seemed pretty excited to come over any talk to _you_. Everything about him screams as straight as one of those tacky ‘ _Live, Laugh, Love_ ’ sweaters they have at the Blouse Barn,” He says, shaking his head with bared teeth at the thought of the jeans Patrick had been wearing. Sure, they accented the curve of his _very nice_ ass extremely well, but David can tell that fashion probably isn’t his forte.

“Yeah, and he also screams small town. So I bet he was never even given the opportunity to think another option existed.” 

David closes his mouth and considers. For all the downfalls of his childhood, an open mind around sexuality was never an issue in his immediate circle. He never personally felt pressured or scared when he realized that he literally could not care less about what parts a person had. Not that love was the most abundant in his household growing up outside of Adelina, but it was certainly never discriminated against. Not even when he brought Enrique and Angela - a couple from the artist’s society he was a part of - home and had told his parents to deal with it. They always accepted him, even when the rest of the world didn’t.

To think of Patrick possibly in a situation where that wasn’t the default is nauseating. 

He couldn’t help but rapidly replay the last 10 minutes in his head. Nice to meet you, Patrick had said out of obligation to be nice, reaching a hand out to David. Not wanting to make a worse impression than he already had been making on his soulmate (who didn’t know he was his soulmate), he obliged and reached for his hand. Patrick’s hand had been slightly rough against his own, an unfamiliar and exciting sensation that caused David’s imagination to explode. For an instant, David was seeing the possibilities of what they could be. That is, until he reminded himself that this man, this unexpectedly handsome man with a voice that sounded like curling up next to a warm fire on a cold night, with kind eyes… was definitely looking back at Stevie, trying to think of what to say next.

David had scolded himself instantly, beating himself up for even thinking of something so stupid. David Rose was never anyone’s last stop - simply a pit stop on their way. How could he have forgotten this? His anger built towards himself as he started to feel a distantly familiar feeling he hadn’t felt in years: numb. He had felt his walls go up as quickly as Patrick’s voice had taken them down. 

“So what are you wearing next weekend?” Stevie asks, pulling him out of his own head. He knows damn well that she couldn’t care less about what he wanted to wear.

“Um, doesn’t matter, because we’re not going,” He says, pushing his half eaten food away from him.

“I’m thinking the leather jacket - screams soulmate to me,” She says, blatantly ignoring what he had said with a shit eating grin. David hates her so much.

He hates her even more a week later as they walk up to the dilapidated front door of the only bar in their town. If he’s wearing the leather jacket, seemingly on his terrible best friend’s recommendation, she shockingly doesn’t mention it.

It’s surprisingly busy in the bar, even by Friday night standards in a town with little else to do. David leads the way, weaving a path for him and Stevie to land at the bar. Snatching the only two open barstools, they settle in while David nervously surveys the crowd. So far, no sight of Patrick and everything is still grayscale. She quirks an eyebrow at him, a motion that’s quickly becoming familiar.

“Well, your soulmate doesn’t appear to be here yet,” David says, as casually as he can, while rounding the room with his eyes once more. Stevie smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He swears he’s gonna vomit if Stevie offers him _sympathy_ in any way tonight. 

Patrick had told them to be there at 8:30, but the sign on the front door clearly said that the live music started at 9, so even being 5 minutes fashionably late, they were now unfashionably early.

Ugh.

Stevie orders them a round of shots to get the night started. David figures that he’ll need them to make it through a night of Patrick giving Stevie googly-eyes with those godforsaken big, heart-on-his-sleeve eyes, so he doesn’t protest. 

As the burn subsides from the back of his throat where the vodka hits, he checks the time on his phone. It’s showing 8:47, just under the picture of the cherry blossoms on his lock screen. He’s not nearly as surprised or panic stricken this time when, in that same moment, the tree on his phone gains a tint. He sighs audibly, which causes Stevie to look at him.

“He’s here,” He says simply, as if it’s a business transaction. He quickly orders them another set of shots and downs his before he has to face Patrick. Though it’s happened only thrice now, he has this feeling that this will all end up just being some weird party trick where he’ll always be able to sense when Patrick is near when it’s all said and done.

His heart pangs subtly with an ache just thinking about it.

“You guys came!” Patrick says brightly, appearing next to them, and David is hit with a burst of color, which startles him enough that he suddenly feels his pulse on the side of his neck. Patrick is in a sweater that’s different from the week prior, but close to the same color. David did some extensive research on colors in the week leading up to this moment, and based on descriptions, he is _fairly_ certain that it is either purple or blue. 

Whatever it is, Patrick is managing to still look _absolutely_ devastating. If David were more comfortable in the present situation, he’d likely crack a joke about feeling personally attacked by Patrick’s good looks. David is pretty sure Patrick let his facial hair grow out and possibly got a haircut. He fronts his best this-definitely-isn’t-affecting-me look. 

Patrick is standing between him and Stevie, close enough that David is sure he would be able to feel his body heat had he himself not been leather-clad.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Stevie says with a smile similar to the one from last week, looking at David. He knows she’s giving him shit in their patented silent fashion, but Patrick either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore the undertone, because he turns and smiles brightly at David. There’s a moment, brief as it may be, that David sees Patrick's eyes wander down the length of him, no doubt taking in the jacket. It causes David to go hot under the collar, and _that_ can just kindly fuck off, thanks so much. He swears he sees a tint of color on Patrick’s cheeks as he quickly turns away and clears his throat.

Although Stevie would say he chose the jacket based on her suggestion, he _really_ chose it because a) he knows he looks great in it and b) it’s the best piece of armor he has when faced with a situation he knows he won’t come out of emotionally unscathed. He paired it with a pair of ripped black jeans, and isn’t surprised that Patrick isn’t the only onlooker he’s attracted.

Patrick’s the only one he cares about, though.

“Well I'm glad you got here early,” Patrick says.

“You told us to be here at 8:30, so really, this is your fault,” David says, the second shot he took helping with some false courage. He realizes in this moment that it’s actually the first thing he’s physically said to Patrick, which makes him laugh a little. Patrick appears to take it as laughing at his scheduling fumble, and chuckles good-heartedly along with him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Guess I wasn’t in my right headspace,” He says, rubbing the back of his neck. Well, at least David hadn’t been alone in that.

“So, what are you drinking?” He asks, turning to Stevie. She looks surprised that he turned his attention on her. She had opted for a jeans and boot combo, topped off with a simple white v-neck shirt under her own leather-esq jacket which makes her look both hot and like she wants to be as invisible as possible (for this situation in particular, that is). 

“Oh, uh, I think I’ll do beer for the rest of the night,” She says. David doesn’t respond, assuming Patrick is just asking in a classic ‘let me buy you a drink’ fashion. Patrick’s owl eyes land on him next though, void of dialogue as he looks at him expectantly.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” David says once he realizes what’s being expected of him.

“No, c’mon. My treat for this round,” Patrick says, and well, David can’t quite find it in him to tell him no. The hold those expressive eyes have over David really isn’t fair.

“Okay, um,” David suddenly can’t remember a single alcoholic drink that exists.

“Get him an Old Fashioned,” Stevie butts in, picking up on the delay, and Patrick looks to David for confirmation with raised eyebrows. David understands his ass is being saved, so he nods in agreement. Patrick nods with a ‘got it’ under his breath and a _stupid beautiful smile_ as he steps away to track down the bartender.

“You’re welcome,” Stevie says, expectantly with a borderline smug look as she leans back and props her elbows on the bar. 

“Yes thanks so much for making my not-soulmate think I can’t even order for myself,” David says, pinching his face up for emphasis, and well, glee would be an understatement for the look in Stevie’s eye right now. The buzz from the two shots definitely feels warm in David’s cheeks and he’s hoping it’ll be just the right amount for what he needs to get through tonight. 

“So when are we gonna tell him? Because he obviously hasn’t figured it out yet,” Stevie asks, glancing down the bar. Patrick looks like he’s chatting with the bartender, and _of course_ he’s the kind of likable person that can just talk to anyone. Practically a ray of sunshine in a pair of Levi’s.

“Um, well, I’m not trying to have a reality television moment here, so probably not tonight. Or ever. Maybe we’ll just never see each other again,” David says, his conviction waning towards the end. Stevie is looking at him with squinted eyes, and he can see the wheels turning. He can’t help but feel a twinge of fear for what that could mean for him, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask as Patrick returns, handing them their drinks. He remains holding a beer of his own.

“So are you guys able to hang out after or just stopped by for a bit?” Patrick asks, looking between them. David is pretty sure this man will never be able to hide an emotion because he’s practically assaulted by the hope in his eyes.

“I don’t think we really planned. Usually when we’re here, they have to kick us out when they close, so,” David finds himself saying. He’s not sure where this confidence is coming from, but the look Patrick gives him makes his stomach flip.

“That’s great! Well, uh, if you want to keep the tradition up, I’ll be around.” Both David and Stevie nod their heads, “I just need to go tune up my guitar real quick, before I play. I’ll meet you back here after, if that’s alright?” He looks to Stevie first, then David. He lets a small smile slip as Patrick looks back at him as he walks off.

“Man,” Stevie starts, causing David to take his eyes off Patrick’s fading backside to focus his attention back to what she’s about to say, “You’re _fucked_.”

David groans and rolls his eyes. He hates it when she’s right.

He turns to observe the small area in the corner of the bar, elevated by two steps, that typically houses two tables but has been repurposed with a mic and two amps as a makeshift stage for the evening. There’s no stage lights for David to hide behind this time, so he’s hyper aware of his posture. He crosses his arms and turns along with Stevie so that their backs are up against the bar. Feedback from Patrick’s mic fills the air.

“Hey everyone, thanks for coming out tonight,” He starts, seeming much more relaxed than he had been last weekend. David squashes the small feeling that he thinks is pride down as a few people _whoop_ in response. “I wanted to start with a cover and then we’ll pick up speed here in a bit.” David can see Patrick take a deep breath before he starts plucking at a chord. It’s slower than most of what he played last time.

_“A heart on the run,_

_Keeps a hand on the gun,_

_You can’t trust anyone,”_

David’s takes a deep breath as he imagines for a moment that Patrick picked this out specifically for him. There’s a small break when Patrick plucks at the next chord where he glances over at David. Well, Stevie probably. _God, he looks so cute_. David sighs. Stevie snorts a laugh as David realizes he might have said that out loud.

_“I was so sure,_

_What I needed was more,_

_Tried to shoot out the sun,”_

It’s probably the alcohol, but David feels a pricking feeling at the corner of his eyes. The way that Patrick is singing is pulling at his chest in a way David doesn’t recognize. He’s not sure if this is Patrick’s song or not, but he feels the experience behind it.

David’s pulled a little out of his moment when the song references a girl - because of course it does - though it doesn’t last for long as Patrick’s voice outweighs his internal monologue.

_“So cover me up,_

_and know you’re enough,_

_to use me for good,”_

Stevie takes notice of David’s quick sniff. It’s definitely just the alcohol.

David is careful to go slow on the drink that Patrick got for him. Stevie, on the other hand, is four beers deep by the time that Patrick ends his eight song set. He comes back over to them once his guitar is stashed away and another singer is getting up on stage. They make small talk through the first song and give appropriate applause when it’s done.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I need to run to the ladies room,” Stevie says, her words slightly elongated so she manages to make it sound sarcastic, even when it’s not. David begins panicking at the prospect of being alone with Patrick, and he thinks he realizes what that look was that Stevie had earlier. 

Patrick slides onto the stool she vacates and looks over to David with a shy smile.

“So, David,” Patrick starts, and oh god how David wishes for an awkward silence instead. “you uh, live in town?” They hadn’t really shared any personal details yet and it doesn’t seem like Patrick has recognized him thus far, so he’s not too keen to dive into this headfirst.

“Mmhm, yep. Moved here with my family a few years ago. Not by choice,” He says, grimacing to himself a little as he adds the last part. Patrick laughs a little. “What about you?” He asks, because he can’t help himself. He really wants to know more about who the universe fated him with.

“Completely by choice, sorry to say,” He says, a glint of mirth in his eye as he jabs at what David had said, causing David to break into the smallest of smiles momentarily. “I actually moved here a few months back. Found a job offer that came with housing accommodations. needed to get away from my old life. So, I packed up and came here.” David could see a hint of something behind his eyes towards the end. David is amazed by the fully colored sight before him, and it makes him want to reach out and… what, put a hand on his back? Hug him? He’s not sure but something of comfort.

They look towards each other and lock eyes. David swears he can feel a spark hung heavy in the air between them and catches himself glancing down at Patrick’s mouth. His lips look soft and full, and if only-

“So, I don’t want to be weird about this,” Patrick starts, causing David to look back up, an edge of panic setting in, “but I don’t know how else to bring it up. You’re, uh, you’re Stevie’s best friend, right?” Patrick asks, looking down at the beer bottle he’s got in between his hands. 

“Unfortunately,” David says, turning to look at his own glass gripped between his hands. He can see a small, fleeting smile that crosses Patrick’s face at his choice of response.

“Has she mentioned anything about… color? Or the whole soulmates… thing?” Patrick asks. David can hear his heartbeat once again in his ears as he tries to formulate a response. _Yes, but you’re actually my soulmate, surprise!_ Is the first ridiculous thing to run through his head.

“She.. yes, we’ve discussed the soulmates thing,” David settles on, because technically it isn’t a lie. Patrick still seems to be holding his breath.

“Okay, well I guess that’s good. I don’t really know how to do… well, any of this really. I never thought I’d come across mine, and honestly, she doesn’t seem impressed so far,” He says, and David’s heart breaks a little. Patrick - he could tell already - is kind, obviously very talented and has such a warm personality. David doesn’t know what he did to deserve such a wonderful soulmate… that he can’t even have. Ah, the irony.

“Um, no,” David starts, allowing a protective feeling about Patrick to bleed through, “she is definitely impressed,” he says, and again - not a lie. Stevie had been telling David all week how nice Patrick seemed and that she liked this for him. David could only argue back that they barely knew him, but he shared the sentiment.

Patrick looks over at him with a small smile. David feels the spark again, his body edging towards fight or flight mode. Patrick’s warm eyes are looking over David’s face, and David notices that they are similar to the color of the wood of the bar, but lighter. David knows that wood is typically brown. Patrick’s eyes are the most beautiful shade of light brown that’s graced this town, David thinks.

He’s a little confused that Patrick isn’t asking more questions about Stevie but takes the heated moment of silence between them to really look at Patrick’s features for the first time. The smooth skin of his cheeks, tinted again with the same faint color as before, the soft curve of his jaw, the graceful dip of his cupid’s bow, the delicious curve of the side of his neck where it connects to his shoulder... David has to visibly swallow and look away as he imagines what it would be like to have his mouth there. 

The man sitting beside him is so unlike anyone he would have chased in his old life; like the universe is screaming loudly in his face what he’s been doing wrong all these years. David looks back over to be met with Patrick’s gaze, he smile dropped in lieu of something more intense that doesn’t help the butterflies in David’s chest.

It’s right at this moment that Stevie manages to return. David couldn’t stop the daggers he shoots at her if his life depended on it.

“Hey, sorry for the delay,” She starts, loud and brash in a way that tells David the alcohol in her system is finally catching up, “look who I ran into!” David glances over her shoulder to see Jake coming up behind her.

Jake - the impossibly attractive/rugged/airhead combo that he _and_ Stevie had a fling with at the _same_ time - well, not the same time - lays a hand on her shoulder as he stops behind her.  
“David!” He says in surprise when he sees him, stepping forward and planting a kiss directly on his lips. David’s mind can’t help but go completely blank.

“Okay, yep, still doing that I see,” David says in a small voice, risking a glance over at Patrick who definitely has a slightly surprised look on his face.

“We got to talking and we’re gonna go ahead and head out back to my place, you two want to join us?” Jake asks, holding up two fingers to gesture between Patrick and David, and David knows it’s not _just_ a friendly hangout offer. Stevie shoots him a warning look.

“Yeah, ya know, I think we’re gonna pass this time,” David says, because if nothing else, he’s not a shit friend.

“Okay cool, well, Pony and I will see you guys later then,” He says, pointedly winking at Patrick. Patrick huffs out an embarrassed laugh as Jake and Stevie turn in the opposite direction and leave.

“Pony. O...okay.” Patrick says, obviously trying to absorb what just happened. David feels embarrassed himself.

“So, that was Jake,” He offers up, unsure if Patrick cares to know more. He’s sure that Patrick is devastated thinking that his soulmate just went home with some other guy.

“They’re together then, I take it?” Patrick says, turning back around to lean forwards on the bar while finishing off the last of his beer.

“Well, see, Jake is _together_ with everyone and no one at the same time,” David says, hoping that he’s conveying the situation correctly. Patrick tilts his head sideways with an amused, upside down smile, still confused.

“Like he just literally doesn’t care. About anything. Or anyone- well, I mean, like he doesn’t mind _being_ with any...one.” David is rambling and panicking more by the minute, the realization that they’ve been left alone setting in.

“Huh. Okay, so that was…” Patrick trails off pointing at David, then towards the door that Jake left through.

“Oh, no.. no, no. We used to, but then Stevie got in the mix and I didn’t want that to be a thing, so. No. I left that all behind.” David says, feeling a mix of something he can’t quite put his finger on as he sees a small smile form on Patrick's face.

“I see.” He says.

“Yeah, so, if you’re not wanting to stay since she didn’t...” David says, looking down at his now empty glass where it rests between his hands. 

“No, I- I can stay. I _want_ to stay,” he amends, “if you’re okay with that.” He seems bashful all of a sudden. David can’t help but smile.

“I’d like that,” he says, feeling a smile tuck in against his cheek. He’s realizing any walls that he was so desperately trying to hold up for the evening are well and truly gone in the moment. It should scare him more than it does.

They end up talking for about an hour, conversation flowing easily. David’s cheeks hurt from how many times Patrick has gotten him to smile or laugh. He can’t remember the last time he’s had some good back and forth banter with someone other than Stevie, but here Patrick is, keeping up with his snark. He finds himself telling Patrick he works at the Blouse Barn and that it’s a horrible place, but the store desperately needs him because he’s the only one with decent fashion sense in this godforsaken town (Patrick only takes it a little personally, with a wink that David is caught momentarily off guard by).   
David tries to stay away from family stories, but a few still slip their way in, thanks to Patrick asking plenty of questions at just the right moments to keep the conversation flowing. Patrick ends up sharing stories of his family and hometown freely, telling David about how he played baseball and hockey growing up and how he’s an only child but has a large family with many cousins. David feels warmth blooming in his chest as he listens to him talk about holidays they always share together. It’s obvious how much Patrick adores his parents. David catches himself imagining a world where he can be a part of that.

“Hey David,” Patrick says after they both have drank through a full other beer. 

“Hm?” David hums in question, turning to him. Patrick’s brow is furrowed a little.

“Does, uh, does Jake live close to the bar?” What an odd question, David thinks.

“Mmm no, he actually lives on the other side of town. Why?” He asks.

“I just…so, quite honestly, everything I’ve heard about the soulmates thing, at first you’re really only supposed to be seeing color when you’re actually around them until you know each other better, you know? And not only has tonight been the first night that everything has been so vivid, but… I’m still seeing it,” He says, clearly still oblivious to the situation as he looks around the room as if to confirm what he’s seeing. David stills, trying to think of what to say.

“Mm, definitely weird,” He lands on, and even he can hear how off his voice sounds. He can see Patrick turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye as David’s eyes remain locked downwards.  
“David,” Patrick starts in question, “are you okay?” David clears his throat.

“So, what if I were to tell you that Stevie isn’t actually your soulmate?” 

Patrick furrows his brow once again, thinking.

“I mean, I’d be a little confused, but... it would make sense. Like, don’t get me wrong, Stevie is beautiful, but I haven’t really felt any connection with her so far,” He says, and David can see him attempting to put the puzzle pieces together, “but who else would have been at both the last bar and here? Because it doesn’t just happen...” Patrick looks around once again before landing back on David who raises his gaze to meet him. 

“Well, let’s just say that you seem to have an affinity for picking out blue shirts,” David says, willing himself to not break eye contact with Patrick. Patrick’s eyebrows raise as he looks down at his shirt.

“Wait- blue?” And David has to let out a laugh that that is the question to come out of Patrick’s mouth.

“I think so, anyway. It’s really hard to research colors when it’s the first time seeing them.” David isn’t sure what to make of the look on Patrick’s face. He can tell that the final piece has clicked into place when Patrick looks back to him with big eyes.

“Wait, so.. you’re my soulmate.” David can only smile timidly as Patrick finally catches on. He waits for the verdict of this realization, heart flying. Not for the first time that night, Patrick huffs out a laugh. He looks back to David, and David _definitely_ feels the jolt of electricity that surges between them.

Without saying anything, Patrick suddenly gets up from his barstool. David looks at him with wide eyes, unsure of what is happening. The look that morphs on Patrick’s face is definitely something, but David isn’t sure what.

“Can you- can you just give me one second please? I’ll be right back,” Patrick says quickly, holding up a finger before heading off in the direction of the bathrooms. David, trying to process what just happened, is thoroughly confused and _definitely_ starting to panic.

He severely entertains the idea of just up and leaving. Just _bolting_ out of there and probably leaving town. Changing his name shouldn’t be too expensive, right? He’s sure he could find a generous person to help him if he started hitchhiking now. He’d learn how to farm from Youtube if need be-

“He’ll be back,” he hears a rough voice in front of him say. He looks up and meets eyes with the bartender, a late-40’s man with a bald head, scruffy beard, and unexpectedly kind eyes. He’s cleaning a glass with a rag that had just been washed before putting it back on the rack in front of him. He throws the towel over his shoulder, “that was one hell of a way for him to realize it, but good on you for easing him into it. I’ve seen a few of them realizations over the past few years, and I’d have to say that was one of the best.” David isn’t sure what to say, but he feels slightly better having been pulled slightly out of his spiral, so he bites on both his top and bottom lip and nods.

It takes another five solid minutes of torture for Patrick to reemerge. 

“Hey,” He says, coming back up beside David.

“Hi,” David manages, softly. 

“I um… David, first, I think you need to know that I’m definitely a fan of… this. It makes a lot of sense,” Patrick says, and David wants to sob right there in front of him as a wave of relief crashes through him. He allows a small smile to grace his face, “I just feel like I might need a little… time? To understand this a little better. If that’s okay?” David isn’t sure if this is a good thing or not, but he’s going to take it as the win that it is. Patrick definitely had had the option to jump out the bathroom window and didn’t, so that’s something, right?

“I understand,” David says, and the look in Patrick’s eye is enough to tell David that, at the very least, it wasn’t _all_ bad. 

“Thank you,” Patrick says earnestly, “Um, here, can I have your number?” He asks, pulling his phone out and handing it to David. 

“Yeah, of course,” David says, entering his number and saving it simply under ‘David’. He hands the phone back and their fingers brush against each other. He knows that Patrick feels what he feels when he lets out a nervous laugh right after.

“Thank you,” Patrick says again, but David is the one who is thankful in this moment.

“I’m gonna go ahead and head out, try and do some processing. Is it okay if I text or- or call you later?” Patrick asks, looking like a nervous teenager. For as sturdy as his frame is, in that moment he looks small and timid. David’s heart feels a warmth from knowing that Patrick - gorgeous, talented Patrick - is nervous talking to him right now.

“We can talk whenever you’d like,” he says, raising a hand to grab just above Patrick’s left elbow to give it a reassuring squeeze. Patrick lets out a shaky breath, smiling down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at David. In a flash, Patrick takes two steps forwards and wraps his arms around David in a hug. Since David is still sitting on the barstool, Patrick is in the unusually advantageous position of being taller and his arms wrap around the top of David’s shoulders. David, stunned- but oh so relieved - wraps his arms around Patrick’s middle and buries his face into Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick is warm and smells of department store cologne, and in that moment David’s can’t think of a more intoxicating combination. Patrick holds him solid for a few seconds before unwrapping from him slowly, keeping his hands for a moment on his shoulders.

“Good night, David,” He says, almost too quiet to hear. It sounds like a promise. David can feel the fondness in his own face as it twists into a lopsided smile.

“Good night, Patrick.” He all but whispers back, receiving a small smile from Patrick in response. Patrick lets his hands drop slowly from David’s shoulders and steps back a few steps before turning on his heel to leave. He can’t help but to steal one last look back at David before leaving.

He’s going to murder and hug Stevie all at the same tomorrow, but for tonight, he’s going to sit at the bar a while and just smile to himself.


	5. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick does what Patrick does best - takes a hike :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be busy tomorrow so please enjoy this a day early! 
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [theswiftiewholived](https://theswiftiewholived.tumblr.com/) <3

The leaves crunch under Patrick’s hiking boots at an upbeat tempo as he treks up the pre-marked hiking path ahead of him. The cool air of the early morning enters his lungs sharply as a welcome reminder that he’s able to breathe… so _easily_ since yesterday.

The pieces were slow to click - and honestly, Patrick felt like an outright idiot once they had. A guy. An extremely attractive guy- _David Rose_ (he had caught a glimpse of his ID earlier in the night at the bar, and honestly, how fitting) - is his soulmate.

_Whoa._

To say it’s a lot to process would be an understatement. That doesn’t stop his overwhelming want to just _shout_ from the rooftops that holy _shit_ , his soulmate is one hell of a catch.

He pushes a low hanging branch away from his face to step past and realizes he’s smiling. Everything feels lighter. Even the gray tone of his surroundings seems sharper, somehow. After he had left David and the bar last night, he’d spent a decent amount of time just sitting in his car once he arrived home. He wasn’t ready for a conversation with Ray to break him out of the bubble he still feels like he’s floating in. 

He sighs a deep breath of crisp air as he thinks back on his life. Josh, the pitcher of his varsity baseball team his freshman year. Blake, the right wing on his college hockey team. Mark, the barista of the coffee shop him and Rachel frequented in the last year of their relationship. All of them caused Patrick to go hot in the face when he thought about them too long - a reaction that he wasn’t able to quite put a finger on. Or, better yet, wasn’t able to admit to himself what it likely meant. He kept telling himself it was because they were all intimidating guys, but looking back on it now, he knows what it really was.

He passes a thick of trees and breaks into the clearing of Rattlesnake Point. Wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead, he slides his backpack off his shoulder and lays it gently on the ground next to him as he takes a seat on a large boulder, admiring the view. He can’t even imagine what all of this is going to look like in color; he can’t wait to bring David here one day so they can find out together. He pulls a bottle out of his backpack and takes a large drink. Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on his thighs and thinks over the events of the night prior for probably the twelfth time.

_Well, let’s just say that you seem to have an affinity for picking out blue shirts._

It’s going to be his favorite story to recap to others; he can already see himself telling it to his Gram the next Christmas they’re all together.

Oh man. His family. That’s a piece he’s not yet considered.

His parents are good people. He’s never seen them be so much as rude to a customer service representative on the phone much less outright to someone’s face. But Patrick had grown up in a small town, and there was only one or two gay or lesbian students in his entire school, none of whom ran in his immediate circle. He wasn’t sure how all of this would go. He’d heard of plenty of horror stories from the internet of parents disowning their children. A few times he had even donated to a GoFundMe for someone who was left high and dry with nowhere to go after such a situation. Obviously, Patrick being a grown adult, he won’t have to worry about not having basic necessities from this confession, but he still very much has a rock in the pit of his stomach over the possibility of losing his loving relationship with his parents. Would all of that change?

He decides for right now, he’s going to have to revisit that fear some other time and instead focus on the lighter feeling of knowing. Just knowing has changed the lens on his life already, and he can’t believe it took an Attainment happening for him to realize who he is.

But who _is_ he, exactly? Not straight - that he 100% can attest to - possibly bisexual? He knows he really shouldn’t force himself into any sort of label here since it’s so new, but he knows himself and knows that his brain won’t let it drop until he can. He thinks back on the girls that he’s dated. Rachel is the main one, but there was also Samantha and Ashley, the two girls he had briefly dated in various ‘off’ periods that he and Rachel had. He tries to put himself back into the times when he and Rachel had sex to see if he feels anything from it. Sometimes he’d enjoy it just fine, but other times he could go just long enough for Rachel to get off before his body would just give out. Try as he might - and he loved Rachel, _still_ loves her even - recounting the whole scenario just makes him feel sick. 

Shaking his head as he tries to clear the image, his mind drifts back to the thought of David. His build - tall with defined, but softened, edges, his large hands that had warmly spread out across Patrick’s lower back during their embrace, the scruff on his face that scratched Patrick’s neck when he had buried his face in his shoulder, his manly scent which seemed to be a mix of expensive cologne, a hint of sweat, and alcohol… Patrick closes his eyes and has to shift a little as he wills his body to _calm the fuck down_ , even though no one is up there with him.

Oh yeah. Patrick is 99.8% sure he’s gay.

He feels at peace for the first time… ever, possibly. Even though he’s running on only two hours of sleep, he feels more energized and alive than he has in years. He had given up the ghost around 5 am and decided to take a hike to try and wear himself out, hoping to be able to nap later that day. As of now, he didn’t think that was going to happen.

His phone vibrates, which startles him since he’s in a place with no reception. Pulling it out of his pocket, he’s greeted with the alarm he had set to remind him that his first rehearsal for the show he’s cast in, _Cabaret_ , is today at 11 am. Shoot. In the midst of his life-altering epiphany, he must have forgotten. 

He decides to start back down since it’s about an hour trek back. He still needs to get some work done for Ray concerning his closet organization business before rehearsal. Patrick can’t believe how in demand the service is in a town this small, but Patrick knows he has no less than five requests currently sitting on his desk.

He stands back up, stretching. The sun has ascended far enough in the sky that it’s casting a warm glow on him as he throws his backpack over his shoulder and loops his other arm through the other side. As he starts back down the path, he tries to decide on what his next move with David is going to be. He had seemed nervous at the admission, and people were normally only nervous when they wanted something, right? Patrick hopes with all his being that’s what David was feeling, anyway. Sure, he could live with his soulmate not wanting him back, eventually… with lots of time and space. Maybe.

No, actually, he doesn’t think he can. He _has_ to woo David, one way or another. From what he has learned about David so far, he seems to be a man with a hard exterior and a soft inside. He wants to live there, in the soft emotion that David will hopefully be willing to share with him. He wants to know all of his quirks - how he takes his coffee (or tea), if he’s a morning or night person, how he copes with stress, what music and movies he likes, all of it.

Determination builds up in Patrick with each step he takes. He decides he’s going to be true to his romantic side and make a whole show of it. He wants to get David flowers, take him on a nice date, get to show him off. He feels an electric buzz under his skin at the prospect. He’s nervous about it all, yes, but so, so excited. When he reaches his car, he throws his backpack in the front seat beside him and pulls out his phone, opening David’s contact and starting a text. He pauses, not knowing how to start.

**Patrick:** Hey, it’s Patrick

He figures that’s a good start. It’s only 8:13 am, and he’s not sure if David is awake yet. He stares at the blue message for a moment after it shows it’s been sent, and nothing happens. Patrick rolls his eyes at himself, feeling ridiculous for expecting an immediate response. He puts his phone down in the cup holder and heads home.

After a quick shower, Patrick changes into his favorite sweatpants and soft v-neck t-shirt in preparation for rehearsal as he works on the organization requests. It’s about 9:30am so he makes a few calls to set appointments. By the time he’s done, it’s coming up on 10:30am, so he decides to head over to the town hall, where the initial rehearsal space is set. He checks his phone just before he leaves, and there’s still no text back from David. He tries his best not to let it discourage him.

The nervous energy he had somewhat burnt off on his hike is back, a gentle thrum in his fingertips and deep in his chest as he pulls open the front doors of the town hall. Inside, a handful of others are sitting around already, including Twyla, from the cafe. At least there would be one friendly face nearby. She meets his gaze and waves with a bright smile, gesturing for him to come over and sit by her. Twyla could be borderline overly-friendly at times, but Patrick is grateful for it at this moment.

“Greetings my young protege!” Comes a loud, oddly accented voice from a woman entering through the front doors. She’s dressed in vertical striped pants and a dark, solid colored, fur textured shirt. Her hair is styled into a sharp, short bob and, despite the fact that she’s far older than most everyone else in the room, she gracefully breezes in atop the highest heels that Patrick has seen in his life.  
All of that would have been a spectacle enough, but it’s the young woman begrudgingly trapped under the grasp of her arm that pulls Patrick’s attention.

_Stevie._

“I’m sure most of you have heard that our leading lady, Mary, has come down with a rather intense bout of cat scratch fever, the poor dear. This unfortunately will leave her indisposed for too long in the rehearsal process, so as many a great leader, I had to make the dreaded decision to recast her role, but alas, I dare say I may have outdone myself. Say hello to our new Sally Bowles, Miss Stevie Budd!” She steps to the side and flourishes an extended arm towards a rather uncomfortable looking Stevie. She raises one hand in a jerky motion as a few people in the room clap. Stevie’s eyes land on him as she scans the room, and her eyebrows raise in recognition. As the other lady continues speaking, Stevie crosses the room to sit next to him, wearing a knowing smile.

“And of course I must also introduce everyone to our other star, playing none other than our strapping Emcee, _Patrick_ …” She trails off with her hand extended towards him. 

“Brewer,” he supplies.

“Brewer!” she repeats as if she hadn’t had a misstep. The same scattered clapping follows as he raises his hand and looks around the room with a smile.

“And for those of you who need a reminder, I am none other than television’s Moira Rose, happy to be on this remunerative journey alongside all of you ambitious individuals,” she says, and Patrick’s brain finally catches up.

Moira _Rose_. 

Patrick can see it. This woman - who is vaguely familiar (and since she had mentioned television, he wonders if it was a show his mom or Rachel had watched) - shares the same general animation when she speaks as David. David had mentioned that he moved here with his family, so it really isn’t a stretch to conclude that this might be his mother. Patrick’s heart rate picks up a little. So many people to impress recently, he almost can’t keep up.

“So, singer, actor, what else?” Stevie asks when Mrs. Rose has Jocelyn break them into pairs to stretch. Of course Patrick had been paired with Stevie, so they currently sit foot-to-foot, legs in a V formation, reaching forward and holding hands.

“Stuffy office worker?” He offers, which makes her laugh a little. He feels a large pressure to get Stevie to like him (regardless of what David had said), “And what about you? Don’t get the impression that you are just dying to be on stage,” He says as they rearrange, at Jocelyn’s instruction, to a standing position. They begin stretching their arms.

“Oh that’s because I don’t. I can’t think of _anything_ I’d rather do less,” she says, and Patrick waits for the punchline. One never comes, so he allows his question to be construed via the confused look on his face, “Mrs. Rose literally cornered me at the motel I work at and said that my tragic demeanor is exactly what she needed as an undertone to Sally’s tale, so,” she says, shrugging.

“Huh, well, good for you for stepping out of your comfort zone,” he says - and he really means it. He’s been working on being braver and taking more charge in his life, and this seems like a huge undertaking on Stevie’s part.

“So…” she starts slowly, and he knows it’s coming, “heard you, um, made some discoveries last night,” Stevie says, and Patrick definitely gets the vibe that she doesn’t let David off the hook in any situation, for anything.

“Yeah, um, many discoveries were indeed made,” He says, and he can’t help but smile as they move into a downward dog position.

“Look, I don’t know if they were good or bad or whatever, but David is my best friend and it’s my job to just-” she pauses, and sighs, “he’s just been hurt a lot. In the past. And he has a hard time trusting people because of it. And this whole thing is a really big deal to him. So like, even if you need to walk away from it, just, don’t be a dick about it, okay?” Stevie says with a strain in her voice since they are practically upside down, but quiet enough that only Patrick could hear it. Patrick feels three emotions burrow into his chest simultaneously: butterflies at this being a _big deal_ to David, warmth at Stevie’s caring, and anger at David’s past.

“I can promise you it’s all good. All really, really good. And I have no intentions of ever hurting David,” he says, trying to impart every ounce of conviction he feels about the statement into his tone. He looks sideways the best he can to see Stevie smiling a little. She balances on one arm and uses the other to reach over and shove him, throwing him off balance just enough that he falls sideways. He gives her a startled expression with a small ‘ _hey_ ’. Not that it hurt, but she definitely had a decent amount of force behind her for being so small.

“You better not,” She mumbles through her smile. Patrick smiles back and gets back into position, his head finding the clouds as he begins daydreaming ideas for dates he can ask David on so as to woo him.

The following three hours of rehearsal are relatively as expected. They get their scripts and after doing the equivalent of a table read, but while standing, then work on some exercises to get to the root of who their characters are. By the end, Patrick is starving since he hadn’t eaten since before his hike. As he’s heading for the cafe, his phone buzzes.

**David:** Hiiii. Sorry for my delay, ended up having a really long night last night and just woke up.

Patrick smiles as he imagines David having just as restless of a night as he did. Another text comes through shortly after:

**David:** But really who is up at 8am. That practically makes you a serial killer

Patrick outright laughs.

**Patrick:** I think serial killer is a bit of a stretch, but good morning sleeping beauty :)

He realizes quickly after sending it that it might be a step too far. He worries his bottom lip as he waits for a minute or so, watching the ellipses appear then disappear a few times.

**David:** Mm not quite, but yes good morning. How did you sleep?

**Patrick:** Honestly not the best. Was thinking about a lot of things

**David:** Same

Patrick pauses for a moment, thinking about what to say next

**David:** What do you have planned today?

And well, that’s an opening if Patrick ever saw one.

**Patrick:** Actually, I’m glad you asked. I wanted to see if you might be free tonight? If so, I wanted to see if I could take you on a date?

There’s nothing for a moment, then a screenshot of their conversation pops up, from David’s viewpoint.

**David:** Um help what do I do????

It’s obvious that this text isn’t meant for him. A few texts then come in very quick succession:

**David:** SHIT

**David:** Obviously wasn’t meant for you… supposed to go to Stevie

**David:** omg

**David:** i hate myself right now

**David:** looks like i need to go jump off a cliff

**David:** Sorry, looks like youre now down one soulmate

Patrick can feel his cheeks going red and tears forming in the edges of his eyes from how hard he’s silently laughing to himself. This man is _everything_ , and Patrick can’t wait to surround himself with as much _David_ ness as he can.

**Patrick:** I would say you should tell him yes, but i might be biased :)

The moment of non-response stretches just long enough that Patrick legitimately thinks that David is googling the nearest cliff.

**David:** Yes, I would like that. But you have to SWEAR that we must never speak of this. 8pm?

**Patrick:** That’s fair, and 8 sounds great. Where can I pick you up?

Patrick feels like he’s soaring. He had just asked a beautiful man on a date and that man had accepted. Better yet, that beautiful man is his soulmate. He can’t believe it.

Worry then hits him hard - he doesn’t have anything planned, and again, he’s on Operation Woo David. To show up without a plan is the most un-Patrick thing to do. An idea hits him, and he decides to forgo the cafe in favor of grabbing something at home to save time. If he hurries, he can shower, make it to the store, and get ready before he picks David up. His phone vibrates with David telling him the address of the motel, which he has questions about, but he’ll have to ask those later. He's vibrating with so much anxious energy that he practically power walks the rest of the way home.

**Patrick:** Can’t wait, see you then :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO'S READY FOR A TOOTH ROTTINGLY SWEET/CUTE DATE?!  
> bc this girl is
> 
> see you all next Friday :)


	6. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what has Patrick cooked up for a date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes, I'm full of the feelings and by the end of this I hope you are too :) I'll be busy again tomorrow please enjoy this a day early again this week!
> 
> Beta'd by [theswiftiewholived](https://theswiftiewholived.tumblr.com/). Props to her for flailing with me through this. :)

Being ambushed with a date was _not_ how David thought his Saturday was going to go.

“Stevie, I’m serious, I think I'm going to have to run away at this point,” David says as he holds the opposite side of the sheets as Stevie pulls them taut and then tucks them around the mattress they’re working on. David’s father had been roped into helping his mother with moving some set pieces into the theatre today for _Cabaret_ , so David had volunteered to help Stevie in his absence. Well, really, he had volunteered because he desperately needed friend time to recount how absolutely mortified he is by what he had done that morning. 

“Okay, I’m starting to think you’re a man of empty promises by this point,” Stevie retorts, grabbing a clean top sheet and billowing it out in front of her.

“Ha, ha. Real comedian we have here,” David says, pulling the side of the sheet that fell closest to him over, tucking the end under.

“I’m just saying, it might be better for both of our emotional states if you just.... relax and try to have fun,” Stevie says, to which David gives her a sideways, teeth-bared, questioning glare as if she has just forgotten who she’s speaking to.

“Right, let me just put that on the agenda,” David says.

“I’m just saying, he seems really alright,” Stevie says, bunching up the dirty sheets that she picked up off the floor and throwing them into the hamper.

“Look, just because you two are rehearsal besties now doesn’t mean he’s going to like… all of this,” David says, gesturing down himself, “Someone as green as him will probably be running for the hills before we hit the main course.”

“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?” Stevie says with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, but like, you and I are incredibly broken people and no one else likes us so we have to like each other,” David says with some sadistic humor, to which Stevie smiles.

“David Rose, number one life coach,” Stevie deadpans, but there’s no denying the affectionate glint in her eye. 

“Thanks, I’ll be here for the foreseeable future,” David says as they lay the comforter to finish off the room, “Well, now that that’s done, I need to go get ready.”

“Your date isn’t for another four hours,” Stevie says incredulously.

“Yes, and I need to ensure proper time for skin care, styling and an added 45 minutes for the inevitable panic attack I’m pretty sure I’m going to have,” He says with a tilt of his head. Stevie rolls her eyes and pulls the cart out of the front door, David following behind her. 

It’s 7:45pm and David is barely staving off the aforementioned panic attack. He pulls up his messages and goes to his and Stevie’s conversation (and makes sure it’s really Stevie’s this time).

 **David:** I don’t know if I can do this.

 **Stevie:** Bullshit. You are David Rose and you can do anything.

It comes so fast he’s pretty sure Stevie was on standby for this very moment. It makes him smile, again believing that best friend soulmates must exist as well.

 **David:** Just promise that if all goes horrible tonight, I can come over to your place and drown myself in some wine and Ben and Jerry’s?

 **Stevie:** Well, wine’s already all gone thanks to yours truly, but yes to the ice cream. Still have the rest of the pint from the last time you were over.

 **David:** I guess I can settle. Thanks for sticking around

 **Stevie:** UGH no, no emotional shit towards me tonight. I’m already coping with the fact that my third wheel status is about to be cemented into our lives. 

**David:** You know i’d never do that, you’re stuck with me

 **Stevie:** Fuck off

 **David:** best wishes

 **Stevie:** warmest regards

She then proceeds to send a full page of eggplant emojis, and David laughs. She’s ridiculous.

 **Patrick:** Almost there, are you ready?

David had been ready for the past 30 minutes, just sitting on the end of his bed, but suddenly he feels very unprepared. Tonight is going to determine a lot and he hopes the Neil Barrett lightning bolt sweater is appropriate for whatever their date is going to be. David is assuming Patrick is a dinner-for-the-first-date type.

 **David:** Sure am

David breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth a few times. When he opens his eyes, he sees the carpet start fading into a color. It makes him smile as he sees the flash of headlights cross his window, no doubt from Patrick pulling in. He doesn’t want to seem too eager (though at this point, there’s not much point in trying to remain aloof about the situation), so he goes over to the bathroom to look himself over once more. As he deems himself acceptable, a knock sounds at the door.

Though there is only one logical explanation of who it could be, his brain still sends out a few confused signals as he walks over to open the door. David is completely taken aback.

Patrick stands on his doorstep, dressed in a nice pair of dark jeans and a solid colored sweater. He has a hand full of freaking _flowers_ , a mix predominantly made from white daisies, and the most breathtaking look of adoration that David has ever seen.

“Wow,” Patrick breathes out, mirroring David’s thoughts exactly, taking in the sight of David by looking him up and down. David feels more vulnerable than the last time they were together since he isn’t donning his leather jacket, and squirms a little under his gaze. “These are for you,” Patrick says, extending the flowers forward. Nobody has ever given David flowers that weren’t a part of a gallery opening, so getting one from a date is doing all sorts of mushy things to David’s insides. He takes them gently as if he’s afraid they’re made of glass, or suddenly might disappear.

“Thank you,” He says quietly, and he can’t help but lean forward to smell them. They smell fresh, so he closes his eyes and savors it for a moment, “These are beautiful. Um, you didn’t have to,” he looks up shyly at Patrick, who returns the smile with a gaze that flutters David’s ribs, “Let me just put them in some water real quick before we go.” Patrick nods and steps just inside the doorway as David finds the empty vase that his mother had received at after the last show she directed. He fills it halfway with water and gently places the bouquet in it, fluffing the sides out a little and stepping back to admire. Patrick is momentarily busy looking down at his phone, so David pulls his out and snaps a quick picture of the flowers.

“Okay, all good to go,” David says, and Patrick looks up quickly with a smile. David has always been pretty good at reading people, and David can see that Patrick is nervous. Without thinking, David walks right up to Patrick and wraps his arms around his shoulders to pull him into a hug. 

Last night when they had been in this position, Patrick had been taller, but now with both of them fully upright, David has about three inches or so on him. It’s just enough that David can easily hook his chin over Patrick’s shoulder as he pulls him in tight. He feels Patrick’s hands bloom out over his back and hold him firmly. David rubs his back a few times in comfort and slowly pulls back to look at him but keeps his hands clasped around his neck.

“Thank you for the flowers. You really didn’t have to do that,” David says again, sincerely. Patrick surveys his face all over with a look that makes that _damn flutter_ happen in David’s stomach.  
“I’m glad you like them. You deserve all the best things,” He says low, and the flutter in David’s stomach becomes a downright army of butterflies. With Patrick this close, David can feel the warmth of his breath on his face, just enough to catch the faint smell of mint.

“Well, that’s… a very nice thing for you to say,” David says, letting his hands unhook from Patrick’s neck and sliding his hands down his chest before letting them drop. David misses the contact immediately and can feel the blush hot on his cheeks.

“I hope it’s the first of many. Shall we?” Patrick says, a sincere look of awe joining his small smile as he gestures at the door. David grabs his phone from the counter where he laid it while putting the flowers up and follows Patrick out to his modest Corolla. He opens the door for David, who is pretty sure he’s about to combust. Either Patrick is laying it on thick, or he’s the nicest person alive and David definitely doesn’t deserve him. Or both.

Stevie’s words ring in his ears as he buckles and Patrick climbs in the car. Just try and relax and enjoy it. He decides he’s going to at least try.

“So, where are we off to on this mystery date?” David asks.

“Oh, I can’t tell you that just yet, it’s a surprise,” Patrick says with a beautiful smile. 

“Yeah see, I don’t generally like surprises, so it’s a good thing you’re cute,” David says, which causes Patrick to blush a little. David smiles in satisfaction that he can still get the upper hand if he wants it.  
“I’ll keep that in mind for the future,” Patrick says, clearing his throat a little before backing out of his parking spot and leaving the motel parking lot.

Patrick keeps up a good string of small talk as they approach the outskirts of Schitt’s Creek, in the direction of Elmdale. It makes sense, David thinks, since most of the palatable restaurants in a 100 mile vicinity were there. David tries a few times to get Patrick to tell him where they’re going, and each time Patrick gives him an extremely amused retort about patience. 

“Okay, it’s just hard to be patient when you’ve already driven past all of the restaurants I would consider date-worthy,” David says, gesticulating wildly with his hands as Patrick gets a good laugh out of him being riled up. David would _never_ admit it, but he’s getting a rush out of the good-hearted, gentle prodding that Patrick so naturally does with him. 

“David,” Patrick says with conviction, turning momentarily to lock eyes with David “Do you trust me?” David snaps his mouth shut and rolls his eyes, nodding a little, “Good. Close your eyes for me.”  
David’s is taken aback, unsure what to say.

“Uh, okay. Fine. But I swear if I’m axe murdered, I _will_ haunt you for the rest of your life,” David says, closing his eyes to the sound of Patrick borderline giggling. David feels a rush of excitement. He’s never had anyone put in effort for him unless it got him into their bed for the evening, only to be scarcely heard from afterwards. He was still getting to know Patrick, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t the type to try that, no matter how much David is wishing that he actually would try the first part.

The car bumps around a little as Patrick drives in silence. David feels the car make two lefts and a right in fairly quick succession, the only real noise being the heartbeat in his ears. After another 5 minutes, he feels the car slowing down and hears Patrick roll his window down.

“Evening, just two?” He hears an older woman’s voice ask.

“Yes please,” Patrick confirms.

“That’ll be sixteen dollars,” the woman responds, and he can hear Patrick pulling cash out and the exchange of what is likely a receipt.

“Thank you,” Patrick says, rolling his window up and pulling off. David is wracking his brain for something that would be paid for from the car, and so cheap for that matter, when Patrick brings the car to a stop. 

“Okay David, promise me you won’t open your eyes just yet,” Patrick says, and David can hear him unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Ugh fine,” David says, feigning dramatics with a smile. He can practically hear Patrick smiling as he exits the car and shuts the door gently behind him. He hears the trunk open and for a second, and David’s brain revisits the serial killer theory. He hears some muffled voices not too far away from his door and thinks he can faintly make one out to be Patrick’s. His door then opens slowly - likely Patrick not trying to startle him.

“Okay, David, still no looking, alright?” Patrick says, and David can hear a hint of something excited in his voice. The urge to open his eyes is _strong_ , if for nothing else but to look at Patrick, but David stays true to his word with a nod. Unnecessarily, Patrick leans across him and unsnaps his seatbelt for him, causing David’s breath to catch in his throat at the proximity. Patrick chuckles softly as he slides a hand into David’s to guide him out of the car. David feels and hears the crunch of rocks underfoot - like gravel. He steadies himself as he stands upright, Patrick’s grasp still firm.

“All good?” Patrick checks, and David nods, “Okay, take a few steps this way,” he says, pulling him forward about 5 steps, “And now there’s a sturdy box that you’re going to use to step on here,” David slowly moves his foot forward until it gently bumps the side of the aforementioned box. He can hear the chattering of some people around them, which seem to be spaced at a distance, and he’s sure he looks like an idiot if anyone is watching. He raises his foot up and finds the top of the box. He tests some weight on it and Patrick seems correct in its sturdiness. 

“Okay, now carefully turn around,” Patrick instructs once he’s on top, gently tugging the hand he’s holding to tell him which way. He can tell Patrick is still ground level, and jumps slightly when Patrick’s other hand slides into his. He can then tell that they’re facing each other.

“Okay, now carefully sit down. I promise you won’t fall,” David should have been worried about a million things at this moment, most importantly if what he is going to sit on is safe for his clothes, but with Patricks warm hands holding his, he doesn’t find time to care. He slowly sits and is met with a cushioned surface. Patrick releases his hands when he’s in a full sitting position and David can hear him climb up next to him. They seem to be sitting on something made of air because when Patrick sits on it, it causes David to bounce up slightly.

“Okay, open,” Patrick says quietly. David takes a deep breath for dramatic effect and opens his eyes.

It takes his eyes a moment to focus from being closed so long, and a moment more for his brain to make sense of it all. There are rows of cars parked in front of them, a giant white rectangle structure at the front, and when he looks around, he finds that him and Patrick are sitting on an air mattress in the bed of a pickup truck. Realization dawns on David, and he’s surprised enough that he lets the fact that he’s sitting on an air mattress stand.

“Is this a drive in movie?!? David says, raising his hands up to his face and laying them on his cheeks, “I’ve never been to a real drive in,” He says. Patrick’s smile is flooded with relief and possibly sadness, but David is too excited to care.

“Yes, it’s is a Julia Stiles-a-thon tonight, which really is just three movies back-to-back, but I remember you mentioning last night that you love her movies, and it just seemed like the right opportunity,” Patrick says, shrugging a little, as if he didn’t just single-handedly pull off the most romantic moves David has ever had the pleasure of being apart of.

“Oh my god. You are amazing,” David says, “I just have a few questions,” Patrick laughs, “First: whose truck is this? We didn’t just hijack a stranger, did we?” David looks around at the truck again and finds it’s much nicer than Roland’s. Patrick’s car is parked right next to it, and he answers with an amused laugh.

“No, David, we didn’t hijack anyone. As luck would have it, Ray asked earlier what my plans were and turns out he has a cousin that works here. He said that watching from a car is no way to experience a date, so he called in a favor and while his cousin is working here tonight, we get to use his truck,” Patrick finishes with a smile.

“Okay, so the blankets…?” David trails off with a worried look.

“Oh, no, they just provided the mattress, the blankets and pillows I brought,” and David doesn’t understand how Patrick just _gets it_. 

David glances sideways and notices a pile of candy on the side of the mattress. He points to it in question, “And those. I didn’t know what kind you like so I practically brought them all,” Patrick huffs out an embarrassed laugh, but David can feel his own heart eyes. He could kiss this man.

“Okay, great, because my next question was about the food situation,” David says, his smile starting to hurt the muscles in his cheeks.

“They have a concession stand and we can do pizza, hotdogs, chicken…” Patrick trails off as David gets the gist.

“Pizza sounds great,” David says with a smile.

“I agree. Go ahead and get comfy and I’ll be right back,” Patrick says with a puppy dog smile. He hesitates for a moment before leaning forward to lay a kiss on David’s temple and then hopping off the tailgate to head towards the concessions. It’s over so quickly that David is left stunned, feeling a smile start to take over his face as his brain registers the situation. His skin tingles a little with the ghost of Patrick’s soft lips. He tries to come back to reality. 

There are four fluffy pillows propped up against the cab, and David notices Patrick’s backpack shoved in between the edge of the mattress and the truck bed on one side, so he chooses the other, which happens to be the side with the snacks. David stands by the fact that socked feet in public is incorrect but also feels bad about getting any dirt on the light colored blanket that Patrick chose. Plus, as spaced out as they are from others, laying back on the mattress makes it feel like they have their own little private space. 

David gently unlaces his shoes and sets them on the edge of the mattress, towards the end, moving back up and leaning against the pillows upright. He pulls his phone out and snaps a picture of the view. Visible in the shot is the giant screen that has yet to start playing and his feet, covered in the blanket, in the forefront. He sends the picture to Stevie and places his phone on the truck bed next to the snacks.

“Alright, here you go,” Patrick’s voice comes from over the side of the truck bed. He’s holding a plate up over the edge with three slices of pizza on them. David accepts it graciously as Patrick comes around to the end and climbs up. Patrick follows suit and takes off his shoes, coming up to sit next to David. Covering himself with the blanket, he lays the pizza on his lap and looks over to David with a smile. David is already two bites into his pizza.

“Patrick,” David says, coming up for air from his carb-loaded goodness, “This honestly is wonderful. So, again, thank you,” David says, feeling shy.

“No need to thank me. I was really nervous to see if you’d like it,” Patrick says with a small smile.

“Um, you gave me food and Julia, literally no downsides,” David says, “Except not telling me that we’d be outside because I would have worn a thicker sweater,” he says, and as if on cue, a breeze comes by. It’s just the beginning of fall, with plenty of warmth in the day, but when the sun goes down so does the temperature.

“Sorry about that,” Patrick says, not looking sorry in the least. They finish off their pizzas just as the previews are starting. They shift down into a lying position, not touching but close enough that David can feel (and is grateful) for Patrick’s warmth under the blanket.

“Oh hey, I brought something else I thought we could do together,” Patrick says, leaning over to his backpack, unzipping it. He pulls out a single laminated piece of paper and hands it over to David, who takes it with a puzzled look. On it are colored boxes with the names of colors underneath each one.

“I uh, thought we could learn which colors are which... together,” Patrick says, propped up on an elbow, looking down at David where he lays flat on his back, gingerly holding the paper up in front of him. David looks over him, mouth slightly agape as his chest tightens a little. This is… David might be a sap, and learning colors might sound like a mundane thing to do, but what David hears is that Patrick wants to learn something new and exciting about the world with him. Together. Together with _David_.

Whew, man. What a concept.

David’s heart does a flutter so hard he has to take a deep breath.

“Wow,” He chokes back. He’s looking over the names, _purple, blue, green, pink…._

“So now we can start putting names to colors,” Patrick says, an excited smile on his face and he lays down on the pillow facing David.

“Well, I know now that your shirts are definitely blue. Lighter than this but still,” David says. He notices Patrick look down at his sleeve, and yes, still blue.

For the next few minutes they match colors to practically everything they can see, from the blankets, to the cars around them, to the labels on the candy wrappers. As the previews are wrapping up, David settles into a quiet moment as he gazes at the colors, imagining what all the art he’s seen around the world would look like in color.

When he snaps himself out of it, he looks over to Patrick to ask if he wanted to put the color guide back in his bag, only to be met with Patrick’s gaze. David isn’t sure how long he had been looking at him.  
“Oh, hi,” David says, feeling the blush hot in his cheeks again.

“I hope you know how beautiful you are,” Patrick says low, not breaking his gaze. David makes a noise akin to a whimper and has to close his eyes for a moment.

“You know, you are an incredibly confident person,” David says, eyes still closed. He knows that compliments have always been a turn on for him, and it appears that time hasn’t changed that fact.  
“Maybe, but it’s true. I’m so happy you’re my soulmate,” Patrick says with the same conviction, his tone staying low like it’s a sure, private thing that he’s wanting to impart on David. David’s chest is beating erratically, unsure what to do under all of the praise.

“Me- me too,” He manages, sharing a smile with Patrick. A rather strong breeze blows, causing David to shiver and pull the blanket up to under his chin.

“Hey, come here,” Patrick says, lifting the blanket up a little to invite David over. Without hesitation, like a magnet, David moves into Patrick’s space. He lays his head on Patrick’s chest, and with great satisfaction, hears his heart is beating just as quickly as David’s own. He gently lays his arm across Patrick’s stomach. Patrick wraps his arms around David, and David instantly feels a warm sense of security. Then, Patrick lays a slow kiss to his forehead, David's eyes fluttering closed, feeling Patrick’s warm breath on his skin. David, not used to the attention, wills his body not to react the way it’s trying, especially since the length of his body is now up against Patrick’s. In a moment of bravery, David pulls his right leg up to hook over Patrick’s, who shifts his leg a little closer to make it more comfortable. They fit like two pieces of a puzzle.

They get through half of the first movie quietly, with little more than a few small chuckles, just lying in each other’s embrace, savoring the touch. If it weren’t for Julia, David would have fallen asleep already.

“Ugh,” David says out loud, to which Patrick gives a raised eyebrow while looking down at him, “I have to go to the bathroom,” he clarifies, upset at his body betraying him. He slowly unwinds from Patrick to reach for his shoes, a sharp shiver going up his back. Patrick sits up and rubs his back up and down as David laces his shoes up before hopping off the bed of the truck.

“I’ll keep it warm for you,” Patrick calls after him with a teasing smile, laying back down and wrapping himself back up in the covers. David huffs a smile and sets off for the building behind all the cars where the bathrooms and concessions are.

After doing his best to touch as little as possible because the bathrooms were exactly what you’d expect from a small town drive-in theater, he quickly stalks back to the truck with his arms wrapped around himself. When he gets back, he climbs back up as gracefully as possible, removes his shoes, and climbs back into Patrick’s waiting arms. He reaches back to the pile of candy and pulls out a pack of gummy worms, lying back down on Patrick’s chest. He offers one up in front of Patrick’s face, and Patrick leans forward and grabs it with his teeth, causing them both to laugh a little. David continues to divvy out the gummy worms throughout the rest of the movie until they’ve finished the pack. 

The credits begin to roll and David leans back slightly to look up at Patrick.

“That’s one of my favorites of hers,” he says.

“I’ve actually never seen it before. It was good,” Patrick says, and David’s jaw drops open in despair.

“Excuse me,” He says and Patrick smiles sheepishly.

“I’ve seen the next one though, if that gives me any brownie points back,” Patrick says, and David eyes him suspiciously.

“I suppose a few,” He says.

“Good, was worried about my rating,” Patrick says in a teasing tone, hugging David tighter for a moment.

“Oh, zero worries about your ratings, trust me,” David says quickly, without thinking, and goodness does it feel good to flirt so freely.

“Well, good,” Patrick says quietly, and then David feels it - the jolt of electricity stemming from the impossibly sincere look on Patrick’s face. David feels his breath catch as his eyes flicker down to Patrick’s lips, watching his tongue darting quickly out over them. From their close proximity, David feels Patrick’s breath get warmer, his nerves becoming apparent. For as confidently and freely as he has shown David affection over the evening, David knows this moment is up to him. 

He pushes himself up on an elbow, and feels Patrick grip the sides of his sweater, finding that he doesn’t care about him touching it. David’s body is on fire as Patrick’s hands find their way softly to the sides of his face. David closes his eyes and leans into the touch. When he opens them again, he’s with Patrick gazing at him like he’s something precious. Patrick’s beautiful brown eyes melt David’s insides and butterflies run wild in his chest. He glances downwards once more to Patrick’s mouth before he can’t take it anymore. He closes the gap between them and their lips meet with a warm desire, firm but soft, needing but gentle. Fireworks erupt in David’s lower belly and he can’t think straight. Patrick’s lips are soft and gentle, but he’s kissing David with so much passion and conviction that David feels like he’s being told a story - a secret perhaps. One that Patrick has never shared with anyone else, and never will again. The thought sends heat rushing to his lower body.

David loses track of how long their lips move and slide together before he has to reluctantly pull back for a moment, both of them breathing hard. Patrick is a _damn good_ kisser, but David also knows that this is a big moment for him.

“Doing okay?” David asks, still out of breath.

“Yeah- yes,” Patrick stammers out, eyes roaming David’s face in wonder, “God, you’re so beautiful,” He says under his breath, his thumb running softly down David’s cheek. David can’t help but close his eyes and smile. He doesn’t deserve this, and he feels selfish just soaking it all in. He wants to give back to Patrick too in the same way Patrick is giving to him, it’s just been so long that David isn’t fully sure how to go about doing that. 

Without warning, Patrick pulls him down, gently, into another kiss. This time, the kiss is more fervent. Patrick kisses him like it’s the only thing he’s ever known how to do, and before David knows it, he’s rolled on top of Patrick. He’s not sure if he was pulled or if he initiated it, but he doesn’t care. Patrick’s fingers tangle into his hair, causing a low moan to escape David’s throat. Embarrassment floods him for a moment and he tries to pull back with a ‘ _sorry_ ’.

“No, no, that was so hot, come back,” is all Patrick says before pulling David back down, and David can feel the truth in the statement by how hard Patrick is against his thigh. David feels his own jeans tighten as Patrick deepens the kiss and their tongues meet. Patrick tightens his grip in David’s hair once more and involuntarily, David’s hips grind downward. Patrick breaks the kiss as his head falls back a little with hooded eyes, letting out a sound like a low growl.

“Sorry- sorry,” David says, again feeling embarrassed. He knows this is probably new to Patrick, being with a guy, and he doesn’t want to push him too quickly into anything he’s not ready for.  
“David,” Patrick says breathlessly, hands coming to either side of his face to guide him look at Patrick, “Please don’t be sorry. I will tell you if it’s too much. I- I just didn’t know it could be like _this_ ,” He says. David smiles in understanding and brings his hand up to lay on his chest, feeling his heartbeat as they both take a moment to calm down.

“Please do,” David starts, staring at the patch of Patrick’s sweater where his hand is tracing small, soothing circles on his chest, “I- consent is very important to me. I want you to feel like you can tell me what you like and don’t like, what you want and don’t want. All of it,” He finishes, looking up to meet his eyes.

“I want you,” Patrick says immediately, without hesitation, “I- I mean you know like that, well, not like that out here obviously, and I need to take things slow because this is so new to me,” he amends, and David can feel his heartbeat speed up a little in embarrassment, “But you. All I want is you, David.” 

David lets out a heavy breath and slowly rolls back to the side of him.

“Patrick Brewer, you will be the death of me,” David says, laying his head back on one of the soft pillows. He really can only take so much honest emotion in one day, and Patrick is overflowing with it.  
“Hopefully not,” Patrick says with an amused smile, rolling up onto his elbow to lean over and press a quick, soft kiss to David’s lips.

“I want you too,” David says, because he feels like he needs to put that out into the universe, “You’re so nice and kind and… wonderful,” He knows those words don’t really personify what he’s feeling, but they’ll have to do for now. They’re enough to earn him another long kiss and smile from Patrick, so he counts it as a win. Patrick pulls back to just look at him, and they share a giddy chuckle and have to look away from each other for a moment. God, how does Patrick make him feel like such a lovesick teenager?

“Um, would you like anything else before the next movie starts?” Patrick asks, and David has half the mind to respond with ‘ _You_ ’, but knows that Patrick means food - which, yes, that’s a good secondary option. 

“Mm, I think I saw that they had pretzels?” David says with a mischievous grin.

“Two pretzels, coming right up,” Patrick says with a smile, leaning forward for his shoes. David impulsively leans forward, reaching a hand around to Patrick’s cheek to pull his face back to him, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. He can see Patrick’s brain go offline for a moment in surprise, before he shakes his head a little with a smile and finishes putting on his shoes.

As David leans back on the pillows, pulling the blanket back up to his chin with a sigh. Not for the first time that night, Stevie’s words run through his head again, and he 100% agrees - he is now well and truly _fucked_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr also as [thetrustytaco](https://thetrustytaco.tumblr.com/) also if you'd like to join me! Hope you enjoyed.


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